


Desperado

by grimeysociety



Series: I Prefer To Choose My Hell [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Darcy Lewis, Bucky Barnes & Darcy Lewis Friendship, Character Death, Civil War Team Captain America, Cunnilingus, Daddy Issues, Darcy Lewis's iPod, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eventual Smut, F/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Non-Linear Narrative, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-11 01:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimeysociety/pseuds/grimeysociety
Summary: Darcy is living out of a trailer in Pennsylvania when the news breaks that Captain America is dead. // Darcy and Bruce are in love and the bubble is about to burst spectacularly.Sequel to Warrior.





	1. i.

Bad Moon Risingby Creedence Clearwater Revival   
  
\- from Darcy's iPod  
  
  
**i.**  


**_NOW._**  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When Darcy's eyes fluttered open and she saw the light pouring in, the first thing she could think was,  _fuuuuuck._ This was one of those hangovers she hadn't had since college and her headache was in her eyeballs and she wouldn't escape from it. At least not until tomorrow. Darcy remembered the bottle of Jack Daniels which sat beside her bed, three quarters of it gone. She blinked hard and sat up slowly, looking around her dusty trailer. She stretched, coughed, and decided she needed to go for a walk.

She opened her front door, and like always, the hinges squeaked to announce her departure to the woods surrounding her. Darcy lit a cigarette and walked the half-mile to her closest neighbor, Walter. He was always sitting in the same spot in a clearing near the roadside, his own trailer converted into a newsstand of sorts, with a TV beside him. Darcy never saw it off.   
  
"Hey, Walter," Darcy rasped, and she probably sounded as bad as she felt. She hoped this hangover didn't include vomiting any time soon. She hated the idea of triggering any of her past disordered behavior. These days, it wasn't as if her appearance mattered that much. And neither did the controlling of food.   
  
"Mm-hmm," Walter replied, one eyebrow cocked. "Big party last night? I can't say I'm in the mood for it, myself."  
  
Walter always had the air about him of judgement but deep down he meant well. At least, that was what Darcy thought.   
  
"There wasn't any special occasion. Just Sunday." And Darcy hated Sundays.  
  
"You haven't heard the news?"  
  
Darcy's eyes flickered to the screen beside Walter's knee where TV anchor was muted, their stern expression filling Darcy with dread. In the seconds it took her to read the title CAPTAIN AMERICA SLAIN, she grabbed the remote from Walter's hand and turned up the volume, her heart hammering.   
  
"Sources have confirmed this morning that the former Avenger Captain America has been assassinated by government associates in downtown Manhattan following an altercation with registered superheroes including Tony Stark. And warning: the following footage contains disturbing images."  
  
Darcy bit her lip. This couldn't be real. How had she missed this? Her cheeks burned with the shame of it all. How could she have blacked out last night?   
  
Next came the shaky camera footage of a crowd gathered around a figure sprawled on the pavement. The camera operator pushed forward to show the unmistakable face of Steve Rogers, bloodied and broken on the ground. Darcy felt her heart jump into her throat.   
  
On second thought, it was vomit.  


* * *

  
The second she stood up, Darcy felt the hangover of the century threatening to burst through her skull. She heard Walter yell something but she held up a hand.  
  
"Walter, when did this happen? How long have they been running this story?"  
  
"All morning," Walter snapped, disgusted by Darcy's vomiting. "They cut off all the damn transportation in and out of the city, too."  
  
There was that lingering denial at the back of Darcy's mind. This could be a fake story. From what she had seen in the news for the past year and a half, superheroes vanished easily. She thought of Bruce then and her chest ached.   
  
"Where's Alyssa?"   
  
Alyssa was Walter's neice, and Darcy babysat for her often. Walter looked confused at her question.   
  
"Why? What is it?"  
  
Darcy took a deep breath. "Remember how I said I had a boyfriend in jail?"  
  
Walter stared at her. "Yeah."  
  
"Well he's more like a -- husband. I'm married. My husband is part of -- this."   
  
Darcy gestured to the TV screen that was showing more footage from the last night of a crowd in the streets. A woman's pained cries could be heard.   
  
"So I have to go, Walter. I have to say goodbye."  
  
Darcy ran then, which was probably the stupidest thing to do when she was in a blind panic and extremely nauseous. She thought about keys, her car, her phone -- _fuck_. She dropped her cigarette on the ground when she reached her trailer, mashing it into the dirt with her boot.   
  
She packed her only bag with whatever clothes she could find. Not much else mattered. She'd need to find a hotel and figure out what to do next.

She'd have to call Natasha. 

Going through her drawers by her bed, she found the old single grey sock stuffed behind her underwear. She delved into the sock and found it -- her wedding ring, and hesitated. It didn't feel right wearing it, but she couldn't just leave it.  
  
She pocketed it and set out to find Alyssa. She'd have to go _now_. 


	2. ii.

Closer by Nine Inch Nails

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

 **ii.**  

 

**_THEN._ **

 

 

 

Darcy woke with her sheets wrapped around her legs, and her pillow tossed aside. Her sleep was always like this these days. She couldn’t sleep through the night anymore, and getting to sleep in the first place took longer. She lifted her head to find her pillow and saw it was still dark out. She could have slept only minutes.  
  
“JARVIS, what time is it?”  
  
“It is 2:30AM, ma’am,” replied the AI calmly.  
  
His company often settled Darcy. She had been asleep for maybe an hour and she doubted being back to sleep anytime soon, so Darcy grabbed her bathrobe from the hook on the back of her bedroom door and shuffled out.  
  
She moved into the Avengers Tower on Christmas Day. It took some convincing from Tony to have her leave her shoebox for Manhattan, but after the disaster that was Thanksgiving, Darcy wanted to abandon any memories of her past as soon as possible. She wanted it to be like ripping a Band-Aid off, and since she didn’t want to focus on being alone on Christmas, moving had been the ideal distraction.  
  
She took her time finding her slippers, and ducked out of her front door into the main corridor. She pressed the elevator button and waited. She tilted her head slightly.  
  
“JARVIS, anyone else here?”  
  
“Dr. Banner is awake and taking in the views on the rooftop.”  
  
“Oh,” said Darcy, and her lips twitched upward.  
  
She did like to see Bruce whenever she could. She hadn’t planned this, so this felt like an acceptable excuse to run into him. She cleared her throat.  
  
“How is he?”  
  
JARVIS took a moment, as if contemplating a careful answer.  
  
“He is… fine. I suppose considering it’s the holidays.”  
  
Darcy nodded, knowing all too well that this time of year was especially confronting for the Avengers team. She was the only one of the people who lived in the tower that wasn’t an orphan, and yet she was choosing to not see her family. She could feel shame, but a part of Darcy didn’t want to allow that feeling and shoved it deep down. She tried not to think of the blow to the face her father gave her without any kind of remorse.  
  
She did feel for her mother, though. Her father, as far as Darcy knew, had never been violent towards her mother. Darcy was just the lucky one to receive that kind of attention, but her mother had to contend with him every day of the year, and Darcy knew that was never easy. Laurence Lewis was a distant, cold man that her mother Olivia always defended.  
  
Darcy thought of her mother’s voicemails on Thanksgiving night. She made it out like Darcy’s father hadn’t meant it, but Darcy couldn’t forget the rage in his eyes, and that his fist was raised for more. So even if her mother had a hard time being with someone like her father, Darcy still felt herself being isolated by her parents. She was their only child, and that was how they treated her.

She felt another wall go up, another layer. But never mind. It was all bullshit, and family didn’t have to mean anything now.  
  
When the elevator stopped at the rooftop, Darcy took a moment to bring herself back to the present, blinking hard and rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand before letting herself out, stepping out into the frigid December air.  
  
Bruce was sitting close to the edge on the ground, and he didn’t seem to be expecting company. His head turned, and his frown softened.  
  
“Jesus,” Darcy muttered, as the cold air hit her. She was stupid not getting dressed properly. She could see her breath in front of her, and she wrapped her robe tighter around her.  
  
“Hello.”  
  
“Hi,” Darcy said, and she walked over to him and felt her heartbeat quickening, like it always did. She always got butterflies, too. “Want some company?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Bruce patted the space beside him and Darcy took it, sitting cross-legged and gazing up at the night sky.  
  
Over the past month since everyone moved in, Darcy and Bruce had fallen into the habit of little conversations alone in whatever space they could find. Darcy felt the tentative start of a bond that kept her anchored, further away from food and her body image.  
  
“I think it’s meant to snow in a few hours.”  
  
Darcy saw Bruce looking at her out of the corner of her eye, and like always, his gaze averted once she looked back at him.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
There was a silence. Darcy looked at her hands.  
  
“You couldn’t sleep?”  
  
“No,” said Bruce. He sounded bitter.  
  
“That seems to be an issue for most of you guys,” Darcy said, and she was right.  
  
The team kept strange hours, which meant Darcy ran into Clint or Natasha in the gym, or Tony passed out somewhere between his workroom and his nearest cache of scotch. Steve was a different story, because he left the building to sprint across Manhattan. Everyone had a different way of dealing with their trauma and their insomnia.  
  
“You couldn’t sleep either?” Bruce looked at her differently now, making Darcy feel like she was showing too much of herself again.  
  
“I have weird dreams. I’m restless.”  
  
She shrugged, shivering.  
  
“Me too, when I can sleep,” said Bruce.  
  
Darcy looked at him, and saw the lines under his eyes. Christmas was two days ago. She doubted he slept at all the past few days. Tony was in California again with Pepper, and Clint was with his wife and kids. Natasha also left without much word, which left Darcy and Bruce alone to brood about their lives.  
  
“Where do you go, when you can sleep?” Darcy blurted, instantly regretting the question.  
  
“Far away from here.”  
  
He wasn’t judging her strange question. He didn’t ever seem to look at her like the idiot she was. He was the smartest person Darcy knew, apart from Jane, and he never made her feel excluded or weird.  
  
“So, what do we do in the meantime? We both can’t sleep. And you don’t drink.”  
  
They exchanged glances and Bruce smirked.  
  
“Uh, and Tony was the one who said scotch knocks anyone out.”  
  
Except for super soldiers like Steve. Darcy sympathised.  
  
“Tony said…um, sex.”  
  
Darcy had never seen Bruce look so awkward. He scratched the back of his head.  
  
“But failing that…”  
  
“Masturbation?” Darcy finished, and Bruce laughed.  
  
She felt her face grow hot and her stomach flipped. She meant to keep this crush under control but talking about anything other than work was always dangerous. She thought of it before she could stop herself – his hands in her hair while she took him in her mouth, making him come right on the roof. Darcy was suddenly aware of how close she sat next to him. If Bruce noticed her blushing, he didn’t let on.  
  
“Or exercise.”  
  
“You want to work out together?” Darcy asked, genuinely surprised.  
  
Ten minutes later, they met at the gym, and Darcy couldn’t help but smile a little at Bruce’s attempt at workout clothing – a Culver alumni T-shirt that definitely did not fit him in this form, with baggy pants she knew he wore on missions that were stained beyond belief. And he was barefoot.  
  
“It’s really that bad?” Bruce asked, scratching the back of his head again.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
Darcy’s giggles barely subsided before starting up again as Bruce joined in.  
  
“I guess this is what I get for suggesting a work out.”  
  
He clearly didn’t want to go for any other suggestions, so Darcy forced those dirtier ideas to the back of her mind and nodded instead, shrugging.  
  
Darcy tried not to feel too self-conscious as she jogged on the treadmill, but she caught Bruce staring more than once while she wiped away the sweat from her brow and chest. She felt a burst of pride, but remembered Bruce was probably not interested in that kind of friendship with her.

Every time she felt like he was gawking at her, she reminded herself of Betty. Of Darcy’s own intelligence and shape. She knew being this harsh with herself would only save her in the end. If she didn’t get her hopes up, there was no chance of being hurt.  
  
And yet.  
  
Bruce was definitely staring more than a couple of times. When they were cooling down and readying to leave, Darcy made a show of tying her hair into a top bun and only looked at Bruce the entire time, and he didn’t look away.  
  
Being this bold, Darcy felt drunk and dangerous. This guy drove her crazy.  
  
She pushed passed him and waited in the elevator, her heart racing.  
  
He joined, but kept to the wall opposite her, leaning against the railing. He was breathing hard, but Darcy wasn’t sure if it was from the workout, for from something else.  
  
She stared at his throat, at the hairs peeking out from under his shirt.  
  
“Probably not the most fun solution, then.”  
  
She knew she was going to say those words and it still shocked her a little. She felt heat pooling in her stomach, her thighs, her --  
  
“No. The first two sound better,” Bruce retorted, and Darcy blinked.

They stared at one another, for several seconds. They were both faltering, and Darcy was either going to step forward, or keep still.  
  
She chose the latter, which she later regretted.  
  
“Darcy,” Bruce began, but didn’t get the chance to finish as the elevator stopped.  
  
The doors opened and Darcy realised this was her stop. Her eyes flickered from the door to Bruce, but he had stepped back, to be further away from her.  
  
She took just another second for him to speak before she left, her cheeks burning.  
  
When she shut the front door to her apartment behind her, she walked straight to her bedroom, threw herself on the bed and snaked a hand under the waistband of her pyjama bottoms and into her panties.  
  
It didn’t take long for her to find a rhythm and wrench an urgent orgasm out from within, her hips lifted from the bed. She didn’t know she needed it that badly until now. She thought of Bruce using his fingers, his tongue, his cock, to make her fall apart.  
  
She hoped he was thinking of her, too. She knew what she saw in his eyes.  
  
Just remembering that dark stare made her stroke herself again.  
  
  
  
 

 


	3. iii.

Spicks and Specks by The Bee Gees

  
\- from Darcy's iPod

 

 **iii.**  

 

_**NOW.** _

 

Darcy went for her phone that lay by her bed, charging on the floor. She kept it near even though she knew it meant they knew where she was. She had maintained this fantasy that she was underground and safe, but she always suspected there was an ear at her door.  
It was a decade-old flip phone with glitter stickers on its front. She threw out her Stark Phone when she ran away all those months ago, and it wasn’t like she missed it.

Maybe it would have helped if she had Twitter to look at twelve hours ago.

She didn’t pause to think, to process Steve’s bloodied face. She felt the sting in her eyes and willed herself to focus.

She called her their old home phone number. Hers and Bruce’s. It was the one they had when they moved upstate with the rest of the team, when New York started to make everyone choke and tense. The facility was well secure, and Darcy knew maybe a dozen had this phone number.

It went to the voicemail. It was Darcy’s own voice, younger and brighter, that called out to her from the naïve marital bliss of the past. It made her want to be sick.

She waited for the tone.

“I want to speak to Natasha.”

With no time to spare, a voice replied on the other side:

“She’s on her way.”

 

* * *

 

 

It took around two hours for Natasha to turn up.

Darcy was sitting on the hood of her beat up Camry and watched the car coming from over the hill, and she lowered her sunglasses just slightly only to push them back up again when Natasha slammed the door behind her.

Natasha chose a Jeep and wore all black, like always.

“Hey.”  
  
“Hi,” Natasha replied. “You rang?”

Darcy aimed to keep everyone at arm’s length just for now. She nodded and jumped off her car.

“You knew we were watching the whole time, right?”  
  
Darcy nodded. She could almost hear the words left unsaid, what Natasha really meant to ask:

_“So, why now? When you both left us.”_

“I’m assuming you have no idea where Bruce is, though.”

Because Darcy didn’t know. She wished every night before going to bed that she’d wake up to a postcard, a message on her phone, an encrypted message hidden in the back of her emails. And yet he had been so consistent, for so long. And then a year and a half went by and now she only had radio silence.

“No,” Natasha said, and Darcy let out a breath. “He’s air.”  
  
Darcy realised she could be lying, and that she could be taking her to see him now, but she decided to at least Natasha a chance. The last thing she heard about the superheroes infighting, Natasha had switched sides and fought alongside Steve.

Tony was still with the government, demanding everyone operating outside their government turned themselves in and made themselves accountable.

Darcy knew which side Bruce would be on, and was glad he wasn’t there to endure any of it. It was one of the reasons why he’d vanished, and why Darcy couldn’t stand the thought of having Tony try and convince her she should be helping him get Bruce back.

She could imagine the jabs, the personal attacks. He’d try to use her sympathetic side. He’d never grovel.

It wasn’t Tony Stark’s style to admit he really needed someone, especially Darcy. She didn’t want to find out how bitter he was.

“What happened to Steve? Where is he now?”

Natasha’s jaw clicked and her brows furrowed.

She didn’t answer, so Darcy added:

“I don’t think he’s dead. Not really.”

“We don’t know that.”

“What? What do you mean?”  
  
“He had an autopsy. But it wasn’t us who performed it. We can’t get access to him, we can’t see his… body.”  
  
Darcy imagined Steve being strapped down somewhere, being picked apart by shiny tools under bright lights, his insides weighed and notes being taken.

Her guts churning, Darcy grabbed her bag from her car, leaving the poor Camry by her trailer with everything else from this half-life.

She and Natasha drove off without another word.

Darcy left a note for Walter, her car keys with it.

She didn’t want to say goodbye.

 

* * *

 

 

“How do you know there was an autopsy?”  
  
Darcy broke their ten minute silence because she couldn’t stand thinking about it all without sharing it. She wasn’t used to an audience for her thoughts since her only company had been a tween and her elderly uncle for the past eighteen months, and neither of them knew anything about her other life before then.

Darcy slipped on her wedding ring and watched as the diamond glinted in the sunlight. She saw Natasha glance at it while she drove, her eyebrows knitted together.

“It’s mandatory when a SHIELD officer is killed. Assuming Steve’s status hadn’t changed. But I did think maybe his body was somewhere else.”  
  
“So what’s the plan? I’m coming with you.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
He was her friend, and that was a good enough reason for Darcy. Her voice cracked.

“I used to be helpful with you guys.”

Natasha nodded, but she looked unconvinced.

“We’re going a safe house in Brooklyn,” she said. She gave Darcy another sidewards glance. “So I need to know that I can trust you.”  
  
“I haven’t heard from Tony since I left.”  
  
“And you have _no idea_ where Banner is?” Natasha pressed.

“I have no idea.”  
  
Hearing herself say that scared Darcy. She’d let this get out of control. She should have asked for Natasha the second she realised Bruce had dropped off the radar.

She could be so stupid, even after everything she’d been through.

“So what about Bucky?”  
  
They went over a bump in the road, and Darcy caught a hint of a smirk on Natasha’s lips.

“A spy is a spy is a spy.”  
  
This time it was Darcy’s turn to frown.

“The Invisible Man, then,” she said, sighing. “Fuck.”  
  
  
  


 


	4. iv.

Every Other Freckle by alt-J

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

**iv.**

 

_**THEN.** _

 

Darcy did her best to avoid any situation that meant being alone with Bruce from then on. His wordless rejection was a wakeup call, so instead of thinking of all the ways she could play mind games and express her feelings in unhealthy ways, she got started on some Pinterest boards.

New Year’s Eve was a couple of days away and Darcy started two boards to help her recover some dignity and some kind of control on her personal life.

She spent hours going through pins about self-respect, most of them emphasising that being single was more than okay. Some of what Darcy found even openly discouraged monogamy, which Darcy considered too ambitious for her right now.

Bruce was a massive crush and a massive distraction. She came to New York for her career, and not to find a man.

She tried to remain optimistic once she devised her New Year’s resolutions. They mainly consisted of losing weight and keeping herself from emotionally eating. She wanted to start dating, but not anywhere near the Avengers Tower.

If she could help it, she’d just go on Tinder when she felt like it.

However, Darcy was not above being a little bitter. Her revenge on Bruce would consist of an off the shoulder red gown with stilettos and the brightest red lipstick she could find.

After all, she was the woman in charge of Tony’s New Year’s Eve party and she’d have to dress accordingly.

On the night of the party she wasn’t expecting to actually talk to Bruce. She expected he’d be in a corner somewhere avoiding the crowd of mostly SHIELD and Stark Industries employees. Bruce would be looking for his exits just in case, a habit Darcy noticed over time.

He still hadn’t had an accidental transformation in months, but that didn’t stop his paranoia. Darcy didn’t blame him because she occasionally saw the Initiative footage online and the most viewed shaky iPhone recordings were of Hulk, and he was usually ripping aliens in half with his giant hands and roaring at the top of his lungs.

When she entered the party which was being held on the ground floor of the Tower, Darcy saw people turn and stare at her, and she felt a surge of pride.

Food was still touch and go. Some days she ate nothing. Some days she ate everything. But most days, like this one had been, she was too busy running around to count calories and generally shoved random catering snacks into her mouth.

None of this night had been effortless, though she wanted it to seem that way. Oh, she just threw this dress on. She pulled a brush through her hair a few times.

The reality was that Darcy took a good two hours to complete her look. She put on false eyelashes, which she only did a few times before. The last time she’d tried this hard was prom night, and by the end of all that, she’d lost an earring _and_ her virginity.

Darcy glided right up to Tony who was standing with Pepper, both of them beaming at her and holding champagne flutes. Darcy had decided to arrive ninety minutes fashionably late for this type of reaction.

“Wow! Hi, Darcy.”  
  
Pepper reached for a champagne flute behind her as a waiter strolled by and handed it to Darcy.

“Hi,” Darcy said, knowing that shy feeling that was creeping up on her. She chose to do this and she was going to embrace her body, damn it.

Or just drink until she felt less awkward.

She took a sip of her champagne and Tony rose his eyebrows.

“Probably don’t have to tell you everybody is watching you,” he murmured, and Pepper nodded.

“And Bruce was asking for you before,” Pepper added with a conspiratorial wink.

These two were worse together than apart, Darcy decided.

“Aaaaaand, there he is!” called Tony, and there was Bruce behind them, looking just as Darcy expected – completely out of place.

Darcy saw Bruce react to her by looking up from his feet to her. His eyes shot to her chest and then back down to her legs and then finally to her face.

Darcy could have sworn he did a double-take.

“Hi,” he said. “Hey, Darcy.”  
  
“We should probably do a lap, hun, what do you think?” Tony asked Pepper, winking.

They were so obvious that Darcy could have killed them. This wasn’t part of the plan.

“You guys –”

“Sorry, Darce. I haven’t said hello to the mayor yet.”  
  
Tony and Pepper departed, and Darcy heard Bruce let out a little huff of a laugh.  
  
Darcy brushed a hair out of her eyes and bit her lip.

“Hi, Bruce. How’re things?”  
  
“I figured we should talk.”  
  
Darcy felt the dread seeping in through her fingertips. If he was going to sit her down and be explicit about workplace boundaries, this was not the time. This was the worst timing.

Darcy imagined crying in a bathroom somewhere with her mascara streaming with a wad of toilet paper in her hands.

Darcy just nodded and allowed Bruce to follow her to the elevators and up a couple floors. They stayed silent, Bruce fidgeting in his dress shirt and pants.

They got off on Tony’s workroom floor, and the second the doors closed behind them Darcy turned to Bruce and glared at him.

“What is it, Bruce?”  
  
He flinched, and instinctively ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry about the other night.”  
  
Darcy closed her eyes. “Why?”  
  
“I should have –”

He didn’t start with reprimanding her. Darcy opened her eyes and watched him edge a bit closer to her, and she felt herself tense a little.

She hoped he was doing what she imagined he was doing. He seemed to move with purpose.

“I’m not good at this.”  
  
“What, women?” Darcy snapped. She couldn’t help herself.

“Any of this. I’m not…”  
  
Darcy waited for him to form another sentence but he gave up. It didn’t stop Darcy’s stomach from flip flopping.

“Do you remember when we met? When we really met?”

Bruce’s eyes snapped back to hers. She meant the time they were at the hospital, and she was on a cigarette break. Group therapy had got her in a talkative mood, but she couldn’t say that was the only reason she spoke to Bruce, who was at that time a complete stranger.

“I was there because I wasn’t… okay. And now every time I see you, it’s like I’m back there at the hospital and I get this scared feeling like I’m going to get stuck and won’t eat ever again.”

The words came tumbling out and Darcy closed her eyes again, to brace for the shame she’d feel for telling her secrets to him.

She opened her eyes again to see Bruce staring intensely, eyebrows furrowed.

“So I can’t have my feelings be played with, Bruce.”

He gave her a pained look. Darcy sat down on Tony’s swivel chair and sighed.

She hadn’t even been at the party for five minutes. She couldn’t just have a moment to be a normal person anymore. She always had to ruin things with her childish emotions.

“I am so selfish,” Bruce muttered under his breath.

“Why?” Darcy breathed.

He closed the gap between them and pulled her to her feet, his hands like a brand on her wrists.

“Because I want you. But I’ll hurt you.”

Darcy felt tears prickle her eyes. “No.”

His hands dropped her wrists but she reached for him, and Bruce in turn clutched at her waist, their lips inches apart now. His breath was on her face.

“I want you all to myself.”

She leaned in, but he didn’t return the gesture. He didn’t kiss her, just held her apart from him.

“Bruce. _Please_.”

She hated her own selfish words with every fibre of her being. She wanted him to stop being so kind and just push her off already. She wanted him to really hurt her this time, so it stuck.

The thing about timing though - what happened next seemed too obvious and too planned for anyone to not have anticipated.

SHIELD had checked over and over for any security breaches, any possible plans for an attack. They looked on the outside.

SHIELD didn’t look at itself.

There was a loud bang from below, and Bruce held Darcy to him tighter, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

There were other bangs. Gunshots.

“JARVIS?” Bruce called.

“Gunshots fired in the foyer, sir. Mr. Stark is requesting backup.”

“Where’s Steve?”

Darcy didn’t remember seeing Steve when she came in.

“On his way, sir.”

Clint and Natasha were still out of town from what Darcy could remember. She was going into her frantic mode she hadn’t felt since Thor arrived.

“I don’t have my taser!”

Bruce grabbed her hand and ran with her to the fire exit. Darcy struggled in her heels, and hastily ripped them off once they were in the stairwell.  
  
“It’s probably best if you go up, rather than down,” Bruce muttered. “Away from everything.”

“Don’t leave me!” Darcy squeaked.

Bruce wavered, his hand still clutching hers. “It’d probably be worse to leave you alone.”

“So, let’s go!”

Darcy flew down the stairs with Bruce, feet slapping on concrete. She needed to remember to breathe. Whatever the hell was going on, they needed to stay alert. As they sprinted, Darcy cursed her dress for being entirely inappropriate for the situation. She was lucky she didn’t walk on her own skirts.

“JARVIS, any location on Steve?” Bruce called, his voice echoing up and around their heads.

“Steven Rogers is dealing with the matter with Mr. Stark. He narrowly escaped an attempted assassination by the catering staff –”

“God-fucking- _damn_ it!” Darcy hissed. This was the last time she did anything for anybody. She should have just stayed a lab assistant, away from all of this.

Bruce shoved the exit wide open, and they ran into the chaos ahead.

People were running and screaming, others were hunched behind tables and columns, pistols raised. Darcy spotted Steve and looked at Bruce.

He had threw off his dress shirt and pushed Darcy aside.

“You need to get out of here. Keep your head down.”

“ _Bruce_.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead, looking resigned and sad.

“Maybe after all this we can take you and this dress out for dinner somewhere.”

Darcy could only gape at him as he ran off. His muscles were expanding. In seconds, he’d grown so tall the high ceilings could barely contain him, his skin green and practically glowing under all the lights.

He was terrifying, but Darcy couldn’t look away.

“Darcy!”

Steve pushed her to the floor, crouching behind a turned over table. Crockery had spilled everywhere. Darcy couldn’t help thinking about it being her job to help clean this up later and groaned.

“What’s happening?”

Steve looked stricken. “I saw my friend. Bucky.”  
  
“What? Who?”

“My friend from before. I _saw_ him. He just killed the mayor right in front of everyone. I need to talk to him.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

Steve glared at Darcy with an alarming fierceness she’d never expected from him.

“I’d know that face anywhere.”

After Steve ran off, leaving Darcy to hide away with a borrowed .45 she didn’t end up using. She felt completely useless, so she made another New Year’s resolution – she needed to learn how to defend herself.

Also she wasn’t going anywhere without her taser from now on.

The Hulk ripped through the foyer, tossing aside the group of gunmen that were apparently lead by Steve’s friend Bucky Barnes, who Darcy was sure she’d learned about at school.

It didn’t seem to make any sense.

Darcy was told to move along by some SHIELD agents. They’d contained the scene and they treated her like any other civilian. She was tempted to ask them the general don’t-you-know-who-I-am type of question but instead waited outside with everyone else behind a barricade.

She checked her phone and saw that Natasha had messaged her.

_I’m on my way back._

Heart hammering, Darcy decided to Google Steve’s friend.

According to every article she could find, James Buchanan Barnes died in 1943. She stared at the face in each photograph: handsome, wide-eyed and nothing like a person who would just up and kill the mayor of New York.

She was interrupted by a call from Tony.  
  
“Jesus, kiddo. Had no idea where you were.”

“I’m okay. What happened?”

She wanted to know where Bruce was the most, damn her feelings. Damn all her New Year’s optimism. She wasn’t going to turn over a new leaf.

“We were ambushed. Waiter had this vest –”

Darcy’s heart sank.

“People were running, shoving. Then this guy is _behind_ the waiter comes out and shoots Mayor Jacobi in the head, right between the eyes. He runs off.”

“Is Bruce okay?”

For once, Tony didn’t tease her about her crush.

“He’s fine. But he went away. Went after the waiter and ripped his vest off. It was fake.”

Darcy knew it meant Bruce was recovering somewhere alone in the city and didn’t want to be found any time soon.

The wave of relief was overwhelming, and Darcy let out a sob.

She knew there was no getting away from all this.

She decided there and then, that no matter what, she was in love.

She was completely fucked.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know how to re-introduce myself. I've had this whole story in the works for literally years, and I didn't seriously consider coming back until March this year. Thank you everyone for your patience. I'm hoping I can actually pull this off, and finally put this story to rest.


	5. v.

Monsters - Something For Kate

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

**v.**

**_NOW._ **  


  
  
“So, why out here?” Natasha finally asked, and Darcy had wondered how long it would take her to reach the question.

Why had Darcy chosen the middle of nowhere? She wasn’t sure herself. She just didn’t want to go back home. Her mom would not be kind. There would be too many questions. She couldn’t put any of her family in danger; that was a given.

“When I left, I just took off. Found a car on Craigslist. Paid cash. I stopped here for cigarettes and then decided I was far enough out.”

“I thought you quit,” Natasha muttered.

“Me too,” Darcy sighed. “And I thought you drove a Corvette.”

The Corvette was Natasha’s precious baby, not that Natasha had ever described it as such – so this Jeep was a surprise. And it made the ride bumpier than Darcy liked.

“Kind of conspicuous, don’t you think? Driving my own car when I’m supposed to be MIA.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “So how long until we can actually get into the city? I heard the roads were closed.”

“We’ll have to lay low. Find a hotel. Nothing fancy, though.”

Darcy had been living in a trailer for over a year now, so nearly anything felt like a step up.  
  
They stopped an hour or so later at a bed and breakfast. The parking lot was all but deserted as Natasha pulled up.

Darcy fingered her ring again, unused to its weight. She worried that if she left it, the ring would just fall off somehow. She knew how obvious her awkwardness was but chose to ignore the look Natasha was giving her again.

“Come on,” Darcy muttered, retrieving her duffel bag and stalking off towards the check-in entrance.

Natasha spoke in a low voice, “Just one room. We’re sisters.”

“Stepsisters. We look nothing alike,” Darcy fired back, but nodded.

They made a show of being enthusiastic but bland people for the lady at the front desk, who sat filing her nails. She was friendly, but didn’t take much notice of them since she was watching her miniature TV behind the desk.

Darcy pretended she couldn’t hear any of the news. She didn’t want to listen to the nightmare again.

Natasha was handed the key card and they set off in silence with their gazes lowered.

“I have a couple books. Probably not gonna watch TV,” Natasha muttered.

Their room had two single beds, with some old Cosmopolitan magazines on the floor. Darcy wondered about how often these places were cleaned and decided not to dwell on the grossness of it all. She’d had sponge baths for months and craved a hot shower.

That was it. She wasn’t going to complain.

They spent the night together but separately; Darcy flipped through the channels to settle on a re-run of _Murder She Wrote_ while Natasha kept reading off her tiny laptop.

Darcy decided to have that long awaited shower.

She stood under the water with eyes closed. She took her time, probably using most of the hot water.

Afterwards, as she was in her sweats and squeezing the water from the ends of her hair in front of the foggy mirror above the sink, Darcy heard voices from beyond the bathroom door.

Darcy froze, dropping her towel, and leaned closer to the door to eavesdrop.

There was Natasha’s voice, and then a lower, rougher voice. She couldn’t make out the words.

Darcy had left her taser in her duffel bag.

She reached for the bathroom door and slowly pulled it open.

“Lew?”

Natasha stood at their front door facing the visitor, and Darcy flew at the figure.

“Bucky. Bucky! Bucky!”

Bucky pulled her into a tight embrace, and she felt everything that she’d been pushing back come to the front – the stress, the fear – and she was sobbing.

Darcy pulled away, looking at him properly. He seemed mostly the same – he still wore a black glove on his left hand to cover the metal of his cybernetic limb. His hair was shorter, but he still had a long fringe that kept his hair in his eyes. Old habits die hard.

Natasha looked annoyed.

“He scared the crap out of me,” she muttered. She glared at Bucky. “You should have called ahead.”

Bucky didn’t take his eyes off Darcy. “Couldn’t risk it. Probably stupid to come here.”

Darcy wiped her eyes with her thumb. “I’m glad you made it.”

The three of them talked about what they knew. Bucky confirmed Steve’s body hadn’t shown up anywhere. There was no record of him arriving anywhere for an autopsy report to be carried out.  

He kept pacing while Natasha and Darcy sat on their beds.

“So, he’s not in New York,” said Natasha, and she bit her lip. “Then he’s got to be in a Hydra cell somewhere.”

“I have to do some digging, but I think he might be in Europe,” Bucky muttered. “But I can’t go anywhere outta the US without a tail on me.”

“What do you think happened to Steve?” Darcy asked, and Bucky stopped midstep and looked at her.

“Stark shot him outta the sky. I think he was moved before anyone on our side could get Steve outta there safe. Hydra wanted him. Wanted me.”

Darcy flinched.

“I don’t think Tony meant it,” said Natasha. “He thought Steve was going to give everybody up.”

“I should have been there,” Bucky hissed.

“Me too.”

They both stared at her and protested. Darcy knew people had limited expectations when it came to her, someone who wasn’t enhanced. Either way, she was part of this anyway and it wasn’t like she could walk away from this with someone getting hurt.

“I can talk to Tony.”

“Why _the fuck_ would you want to talk to him? After everything that happened?” Bucky snarled. “Most likely he’ll just get you arrested for hiding me. Or not telling him where Bruce went.”  
  
“Truth is, I have no idea where my husband is. So we’re in the same boat, right?” Darcy counted, with one eyebrow raised.

“Oh.”

“Have _you_ seen Bruce?”

“No,” muttered Bucky, looking uncomfortable. “Sorry.”

Darcy thought that out of everyone, Bucky could have helped her the most. He went off for months at a time without explanation – he had his ear to the floor.  
  
Darcy sighed. “Sorry. I’m sorry I’m like this.”

There was an awkward silence. Darcy found her pack of cigarettes and walked out before Natasha could stop her. She and Bucky seemed to be giving her some slack.

Darcy got to the end of the parking lot close to the highway where trucks were cruising by. She stood under the neon vacancy sign and lit her cigarette, watching as Bucky came walking after her, his hands in his pockets.

“I haven’t seen you in like, a year.”

“It’s been longer,” Darcy said, and took a long drag. Without a word, she handed the cigarette to Bucky and he drew from it.

“We can’t stay here. Natasha’s packing up. My bike’s about a mile from here.”

They just looked at each other. Bucky passed back the cigarette.

“Why didn’t you drop a line or somethin’?”

Darcy blinked back tears. She felt like he could cut her open without even trying. Bucky was always good at staring her down, and calling her out. She supposed he gave as good as he got from her.

“Because I was grieving.”

She needed to heal. Things like this happened otherwise; she’d cry. She’d have her chest ripped open. She’d just cry until the tears felt like they’d run out.

She ran away when Bruce did because Darcy was good at running away. If she’d stayed, she’d have to see people feel sorry for her every day. She’d stay on the compound alone and tired and sick.

She lost her baby. She thought of that every day, and yet she managed to shove that deep back down again every time she was reminded.

All that infectious joy she’d felt just swept away.

“Fuck!” Darcy cried, and she was on her knees in the dirt, cigarette forgotten, with Bucky’s arms around her, trying to anchor her.

Bucky didn’t say anything, and Darcy was glad.

“I want to throw up so bad, I just can’t stand it!”

“Darcy, no.”

Darcy wanted to scream and never stop. She couldn’t stop thinking about every little part of Bruce’s control falling away as their baby died inside her. She remembered his own sobs, the ungodly sound as Bruce realised what had happened.

The pain, the blood –

Bucky shook her. “Lew! Remember what you told me? Remember?”

Darcy kept crying, but Bucky wiped away her tears with a sleeve, staring her down.

“If Steve and I could find each other after everything we’d been through, it must mean something. You told me that. And we can find Bruce again.”

“What if Bruce doesn’t want me back?”

Bucky chuckled at that, and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Who wouldn’t want _you_ , Lew?”  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. vi.

Drop the Game by Flume featuring Chet Faker

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

**vi.**

_**THEN.** _

   
  
The second she could persuade the police officer blocking the Tower entrance that she’s actually employed by Tony Stark, Darcy scurried into the lobby. Several paramedics are treating civilians and Darcy winced at the site of a body bag being lifted onto a stretcher to be taken away to the coroner’s office.

Darcy wanted to be sick, for more than one reason. Every time she made herself purge or starved herself, she knew this was because of her feeling out of control. If her therapist were there, they’d say Darcy needed to unpack some of her thoughts. She decided against that. Right now, all Darcy wanted to do was find Bruce.

She didn’t care what state he was in.

Next, she’d need to find Steve. She had to convince him the guy he saw couldn’t possibly be his friend from back before he was frozen – maybe in his state of shock, Steve had seen Bucky Barnes’ doppelganger and wished too hard for his best friend back.

Darcy finally remembered the floor number for the med bay and pressed the button for the elevator.

On the ride up, Darcy went back to her search on the Howling Commandos and looked at Bucky’s black and white portrait again.

She sighed. This guy died right in front of Steve, or, that’s what she’d always known from the stories people had shared over the years. Darcy couldn’t imagine that kind of pain. So maybe it made sense to Steve to pretend.

But what bothered her about that theory was that Steve was always so smart. He never made mistakes. He was, almost annoyingly, flawless in every execution of his work and personal life. He ran 13 miles in 30 minutes. He went through punching bags _daily_.

No, this didn’t feel right. Darcy exited her browser and opened her Twitter feed instead. The trending topics included the attack on the Avengers Tower that evening.

Darcy stopped scrolling, heart hammering. A grainy photo that could only be the Mayor of New York with a man standing behind him shone back at her. She tapped it to enlarge the photo, and saw the same eyes, Bucky Barnes’ eyes, now wild and deadly, just above a mask that covered the lower half of the assassin’s face.

“Bucky… Barnes.”

The words played on Darcy’s lips. She rolled each syllable along her tongue.

She looked up, seeing she was still several floors from the med bay.

“JARVIS, is Steve still in the building?”

“No, ma’am. Mr. Rogers left just as the crowd dispersed.”

He went after Bucky. He was going to chase him to the ends of the earth, now. And there was probably no way Darcy could keep up, or somehow find Steve again without help.

“If you can get a hold of him, please tell him I saw Bucky, too. Tell him…”  
  
Darcy wasn’t sure what to say. There were so many questions.

She sighed as the elevator finally stopped at the med bay floor.

Doctors and nurses were running around the long corridor, and all Darcy could do was duck out of the way.

There were some people crying out. Darcy walked up to a nurse with a clipboard.

“Is Dr. Banner here?”

“What?” the nurse said, distracted. “Yes. He’s –”

The man pointed to the door at the end of the corridor.

“Is he okay?”

“He’s alright. He’ll need to stay overnight. Company policy for enhanced men and women.”

He looked her up and down. Before he could ask, Darcy said, “I’m authorised. I’m Darcy Lewis.”

“You’re his next of kin, right? We were about to call you. It’s been hectic around here.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What? Surely, Tony Stark –”

The nurse turned away, writing furiously on his clipboard. “Like I said, it’s been hectic. I’m sorry, but I’m needed elsewhere, Miss Lewis.”  
  
He left Darcy alone in the hallway with people still running around her.

Darcy hated that hospital smell everything carried but tried to think more about getting to Bruce than her fear of these kinds of places.

She jogged – practically ran – to the last door at the end of the corridor, and burst in.

The room was white and large, with the bed in the middle. A small TV played in an upper corner, but Darcy didn’t register anything but Bruce’s sleeping body lying amongst a mess of cords. There was too much on him.

Darcy started to cry before she could stop herself. She sank to the chair next to the bed and watched Bruce’s chest rise and fall.

He had something on his finger – Darcy remembered that was for his pulse – and an IV stuck in his right hand. There were wires stuck onto his chest, for his heart.

Remembering the door, Darcy got up to close it and then looked back at Bruce, who was stirring.

He gave a slight groan and his eyes fluttered open.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” Bruce murmured groggily, but his face immediately warmed at the sight of Darcy. “Come here.”

He just managed to pat the edge of the bed and Darcy flew to him.

“Hey,” she whispered, clasping him in her hands and kissing his fist. She started to sob the second she felt how weak his returning grip was. “Oh, God.”

“Please don’t cry. I’m okay. They’ve got me on some pretty strong painkillers right now, so…”

The way Bruce was just so casual about the whole thing made Darcy’s heart break. He went through this much every time he transformed. She would see him like this every time, and she was the one who wanted to pick him back up again.

Someone, most likely her father, spoke in her mind: “You’re not strong enough for this.”

But, she was. Darcy _had to_ be. She didn’t choose to feel this way about Bruce, and he probably hadn’t wanted this, either. There had to be a reason why he hadn’t been with anyone since Betty.

“I’m just enjoying the ride,” Bruce finished. He stared at her. “Are you okay?”

“Am _I_ okay?” Darcy cried. “Jesus Christ, Bruce.”

He chuckled, before wincing. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Why was I your next of kin?” Darcy rubbed his hand. “What’s that about?”

Bruce just looked back at her from under heavy lids and smiled. “Probably a little obvious.”

“More obvious than you wanting to take me ‘and this dress out sometime’?”

“I am so high right now. Please cut me some slack.”

Darcy grinned. He was very adorable like this, even if he was incapacitated. Vulnerable, even. Her smile faded as Bruce shook his head and said, “Probably shouldn’t go out with me, Darcy.”

“I know what you’re doing. So stop it.”

“What _am_ I doing? Warning you?”

Darcy sniffled. “Yes. Putting your wall up again. It’s not going to work.”

Bruce looked like he wanted to roll his eyes in exasperation, but instead he just gave a tired sigh.

“I would probably say the same to you, too.”

Darcy didn’t know what to make of that. Her wall was protected. It was something she did with everyone, not just Bruce. Had her resistance to letting anyone in become too obvious to work anymore? She felt herself blush.

“That’s different. But, I’m… trying. I already told you a lot tonight.”

Darcy looked away, blinking hard. She didn’t want to be crying so much all time. It made her feel too strange, that she couldn’t pretend that she was strong so much anymore, at least when it came to Bruce.

“I decided I don’t want to be without you. That’s why you’re my next of kin. I was going to tell you tonight. But then you showed up in this dress, looking like _that,_ and I froze up. I got scared. I was stupid.”

Bruce admitting he was wrong? That was new. Darcy looked back, and he was smiling at her again.

“You’re hot and cold. But I get it,” she said. “And you were being stupid just now.”

Bruce chuckled again, immediately regretting it with another wince.

They settled into a silence and just looked at each other. Darcy wiped her eyes. Her makeup was probably ruined now. After everything, she’d forgotten she meant to keep herself in this little, neat constructed version of reality where she was a put together adult.

“I am so sorry,” she whispered.

“What for?”

“I should have been honest, from the moment I met you. About everything. I should have told you about how sick I was. I kept it from you because I thought you would see me. _Really_ see me.”

That same voice, in her head: "Because you’re not good enough for him."

“If I could, I’d take anyway any doubt you have about how I feel about you, Darcy.”

Darcy leaned forward, and Bruce stroked her face. “So what would you do to convince me?”

“I think you _know_ what I’d do,” Bruce countered, voice low.

His hand was in her hair and she could feel his breath on her face. She closed her eyes, their noses brushing, and pressed her mouth to his in a slow peck. Darcy opened her eyes again to see Bruce’s eyelashes curled against his cheek, with the tired marks under his eyes.

Darcy broke the kiss only to have Bruce brush a thumb over her bottom lip before he captured her in another. His insistent licking had Darcy open her mouth to him, deepening their kiss.

Darcy had wanted this for so long, and said so, when she finally came up for air.

“Me too,” Bruce said, as Darcy leaned on top of him, pressing him into the bed. “God, you have no idea. You drive me crazy.”

She wanted to feel him, touch him everywhere over and over. She wanted to know every surface, every little part of him hidden away that she wasn’t allowed to touch before now.

She could feel the heat that pooled in her stomach that reached out further down to her pussy. She could feel the coil tightening inside her, insistent and desperate for relief.

They kept pawing at each other, his hands on her waist, lingering just below her chest. She reached out to untie his smock. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. There were too many cords to get tangled up in.

“I’m hard,” Bruce groaned, and Darcy felt him, on her stomach, a tent in the sheets.

She shamelessly grounded her crotch against his thigh. She needed to get under the fabric.

“Please tell me you’re wet,” he breathed, and Darcy gave him a bruising kiss with her head to the side, trying to get a hand under the sheet to find him and relieve him.

Darcy nodded wordlessly, becoming frantic with the sheets. She moaned as Bruce pulled her back up to him for another kiss.

“Let me touch you.”

It was then that Darcy finally acknowledged something so painfully obvious to her and probably anyone else who knew her dating history – Bruce was a full-fledged man and Darcy hadn’t been with someone like him before. She knew guys from college and the boy she lost her virginity to in high school, but this was different. This arousal, this desire was so strong and sudden to her body she felt like she couldn’t contain herself.

So when he said he wanted to touch her, she whimpered in his ear. He mouthed at her neck and she shivered.

There was a knock at the door and they both froze, Bruce’s lips still at Darcy’s throat.

“Hello?”

Of course, it had to be Tony. Darcy growled in frustration. She tried to move off Bruce but he was practically begging her to stay.

“No, no, no, no, no!” he muttered, pulling at her arm.

He was too cute to not smile at, however frustrated Darcy was. She shook her head.

“Later.”

And yet she was the one who had almost given him the blow job of his life, like it was the only thing she ever wanted to do.

“Come in,” Darcy called, and remained sitting beside Bruce on his bed.

Bruce sighed, but didn’t argue. He slipped on hand over his crotch and the other he kept in Darcy’s hands in her lap.

Tony raised his eyebrows at them. “Hi.”

“Tony,” Bruce warned, blinking hard. “Don’t.”

Darcy had to bite her lip to hide a smirk. There was a smear of her lipstick on nearly every surface of Bruce’s lips. There was no way they were hiding what had happened.

“Okay. Probably not the best timing.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Bruce muttered under his breath, and Darcy gave a surprised laugh. He looked up at her and his lips gave a small tweak. His hand was really close to where Darcy needed it to be. So close, and yet…

“Well, I’m sorry to ruin the mood but I was with the FBI just a second ago.”

Darcy felt her heart sink. “Tony, Cap’s out looking for Jacobi’s killer.”

Tony gave an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening! I only just got Pepper out of here.”

“Pepper’s okay?”

“Barely. _Barely_ got her out of the way.” Tony started pacing.

“Cap said he saw someone from the Howling Commados tonight,” Darcy said, and she grabbed her phone from where she’d left it on the chair.

She didn’t see any texts from Steve.

Tony gave her a dismissive wave. “I have no idea what that means. We have to try and get everyone together for a meeting ASAP. Fury is apoplectic.”

Darcy checked Twitter again. There was nothing new. No-one seemed to recognise the masked man, but everyone seemed to have their own theory about why Mayor Jacobi was killed.

Someone even said it was because he was Jewish.

“Happy New Year, everyone, by the way,” Tony said. “It’s three AM, January 1st.”

“Yay,” Bruce said sarcastically.

“We need to focus on getting Steve back,” Darcy said, suddenly filled with that dread she had felt back in the elevator. “I think Bucky Barnes killed Jacobi. And Steve will not just bring him in if it _is_ really Bucky.”

“Pepper almost got shot and you’re worried about Steve right now? Steve? Of all people?” Tony snapped, hands in his hair.

“Tony,” Bruce warned, sitting up.  
  
“What? You realise what you’re talking about it actually crazy, right? It’s impossible.”

“As impossible as Steve being here at all?” Darcy countered, glaring at Tony.

Bruce held out a hand and she went back to him, letting him wrap an arm around her waist and drawing her close.

Tony rolled his eyes at them both.

“Jesus Christ.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Darcy wanted to slap him.

Tony looked like he wanted to say something else but faltered, shaking his head. He’d been doing this a lot more lately, especially after he came so close to being dumped by Pepper before Thanksgiving.

Ignoring Tony altogether, Bruce murmured to Darcy, “Can you ask a nurse if I can go? I want to get outta here.”

“You are _stoned_ , Bruce.”

“But maybe I want to be in my _own_ bed tonight.”

“Okay, I know where this is going and you’re both being gross. So just put a pin in it!” Tony cried, waving his hands. “Enough.”

“I can put you to bed,” Darcy whispered in Bruce’s ear and Tony groaned.

“Fine, we’ll go find Cap!” Tony relented, and Darcy’s gaze swivelled to him.

“Good.”

 

 

 

Darcy went against the nurse’s wishes and told them since she was Bruce’s next of kin, she was entitled to take him upstairs to his own bed since his heart rate was perfectly fine and there was no immediate danger.

“Miss Lewis, really!” The male nurse sounded offended. “You need to file the right paperwork before you escort him out. Please!”

“I’m a personal assistant, so it’s not like I’d don’t have a dozen things to get through in the next few days. Dr. Banner is just going to sleep for a few hours and we’ll check in with you if necessary.”

The nurse gave an exasperated sigh. “Alright! Please keep him in one piece.”

Darcy called over her shoulder as she walked with Bruce to the elevator:

“Of course!”

“Poor guy. Hell of a night,” Bruce muttered, taking Darcy’s hand in his.

Darcy didn’t have the pleasure of seeing Bruce change into some sweats because she was busy arguing with Tony about where they should start. Tony stormed off to see how Pepper was in the penthouse.  
  
In the elevator, Bruce kept looking over at her and smiling.

“What?”

“You are so beautiful.”

Darcy could have sworn her heart grew at his words. “I need a shower.”

“Have one with me.”

“You’re going to _bed_ ,” Darcy said, stepping closer to him, her knee between his thighs. She gave his chest a prod.

“With you?”

He was so cute. She leaned in and Bruce gave her a long, searching kiss.

“You’re crashing,” she whispered.

“It was worth a shot.”

Bruce sighed, kissing her face, her neck. He pressed his mouth to the corner of hers, and she grinned.  
  
“Soon, I promise.”

When he was feeling better. When she wasn’t supposed to be looking for Steve. When they had more time, whenever that was supposed to be.

She unlocked his door for him, since she had his pass around her neck.

His apartment was just how she imagined, and yet she hadn’t thought of how it would smell of him so strongly. A musky, but almost sweet smell that made her want to roll around in his sheets when they got to his bedroom.

There was a poster of The Kiss by Gustav Klimt above his bed and Darcy stopped to stare at it for a second.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wishful thinking, I suppose,” Bruce said as he pointed absently at it.

Darcy looked away when Bruce took off his shirt, but she wasn’t sure why. She felt suddenly shy in his space. He slept here every night. Did he think of her in this room?

Her eyes flitted over to his shape, and saw Bruce stepping out of his sweatpants, his boxer briefs now the only piece to hide him from her.

She swallowed hard at what she saw. His broad chest that had been hidden under button down shirts and lab coats. Apparently, chest hair was a turn-on for Darcy, because she realised how much she appreciated it in full-view.

He had bigger arms than expected. He had nice thighs Darcy could imagine stroking and dragging her nails across.

He was beautiful and he probably didn’t even realise it.

She wanted to stay. She wanted that so badly, she had to look away from him again. She was afraid that if she stayed with him now, she’d never leave. And then of course no work would ever get done.

But Bruce was on her before she could run out the door. He had his hands in her hair again, but instead of anything desperate and feverish like before, he gave her a light, tender kiss on her cheek.

She sighed. “Cut it out.”

He chuckled. “Not sorry about it.”

She fought the urge to reach down and put her hands around him. She wanted to be on her knees for him, fast and urgent. She wondered how long he would last.

“Do you even know what you _look_ like?” she muttered, breaking away from him finally.

She looked down at his crotch for just a second – a peek, just because she was too damn curious for her own good. His bulge, and the shape of him beneath the cotton was too prominent not to be a hard-on.

“Do _you_ even know what _you_ look like?” Bruce countered, licking his lips.

Her heart was hammering and there were butterflies in her stomach, but she fought against her urge with everything she had, and pointed to his bed.

Bruce climbed under his sheets, not breaking eye contact with Darcy. “Yes, ma’am.”

He was too drowsy to keep up with her, and Darcy didn’t think either of them wanted their first time together to be anything less than mind-blowing and completely sober.

Darcy leaned in and kissed Bruce on the forehead, tucking him in.

She was sure he’d drifted off by the time she shut his front door behind her.

Darcy wasn’t quite sure what she was doing. She was Tony’s assistant but pretty much took care of the entire Avengers team. She knew everyone’s coffee order. She could recite classified phone numbers, not that she ever would.

She prayed Clint wouldn’t suddenly come back when she’d spoken to his wife herself and promised Clint at least a fortnight back home.

Darcy was on Tony’s workroom floor trying to figure out what to do next when she felt her phone vibrate and looked at its screen.

She answered the call too quickly. She wasn’t prepared.

“Steve.”

“Listen. I need you to get down here.”

Steve gave her the address in a hurried jumble of words. She had to get him to repeat it so she could actually write it down.

“So it is Bucky,” Darcy said, gripping the phone a little tighter. “Steve, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just – we had to knock him out –”

“We?”  
  
“Me and my buddy Sam.”

Who the fuck was Sam? Darcy took a second to try and remember if the name had ever come up, but Steve must have kept this to himself. They all had their secrets, and Darcy didn’t just him for that, but it hurt a little that he hadn’t introduced him to her. Or Natasha, she guessed.

“You need to get down here. I haven’t got Natasha and we need everyone we can get.”

“What about Tony?”

“No, not Tony. I can’t explain right now. Just get down here as soon as you can. _Please_ , Darcy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH HEY GUYS. I wasn't expecting to upload this so quickly but I can't get this fic out of my head! My boyfriend hurt his knee so we haven't been running around much this week and I wrote constantly tonight and smashed out over 3k. Which is insane for me. Thank you for the kudos and comments. I appreciate the support.  
> It only took me what, four or nearly five years to get Bruce and Darcy to actually kiss? I am so proud.


	7. vii.

Underdog by Kasabian

\- from Darcy's iPod

  
**vii.**

_**NOW.** _

  
  
  
Darcy was walking down the street towards Avengers Tower.

She borrowed clothes from Natasha, who for the most part liked to wear some pretty flashy figure-hugging things in her spare time.

Well, they were flashy for Darcy’s taste. She missed her boots and hooded jacket, but she was sick of wearing the same clothes over and over from the same duffel bag.

The safe house had been suffocating, but they finally arrived in the city three days after Bucky met up with them in the hotel.

Not going to the Brooklyn safe house Natasha had mentioned was Bucky’s idea. Instead they stayed in New Jersey and mostly played cards and strategized.

Darcy stopped and looked up at the Avengers Tower and noticed the Stark Industries sign where the capital A once was. Darcy cringed, remembering her last conversation with Tony and how vicious he had been.

Darcy had her taser, just in case. She hoped she was just being overly cautious. She didn’t think Tony would ever actually hurt her, but he could come close depending on the trigger.

Bucky was nowhere to be seen so that was a good start. He and Natasha were a few blocks away in the Jeep, laying low. They were Darcy’s backup, though the more she thought about it, the likelihood of her leaving Tony after this conversation felt exceptionally unlikely.

Bucky said he could keep her away before the police came and got her.

“Darcy?”

Darcy’s head whipped around to see Happy Hogan coming up beside her, and she squinted at his sunglasses and failed to see his eyes.

“Happy.”

“He wants to see you.”

Darcy looked around behind them at the long street for any kind of escape. She counted dozens of people hanging around the streets, on their way to work or to school. She couldn’t be sure who could be someone undercover, and who could just be a civilian.

“Where is he?”

Darcy wasn’t in the mood for friendliness most days, let alone when she was back in a place that only ever reminded her of Bruce, and how in love they once were.

Were, or _are_? Of course Darcy still loved Bruce, but she didn’t know how he felt any more. She didn’t talk about Bruce at all during those days in the safe house with Bucky and Natasha because she didn’t want to tell them the truth - Bruce was her life, and now he was gone. She didn’t want them to pity her.

Happy gestured over to a limo some thirty feet away and Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Right.”

She walked over to the limo and slipped into the back seat.

Tony sat opposite her, a glass tumbler of scotch in one hand.

He lowered his tinted sunglasses and Darcy sighed, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

“Hi, Tony.”

“Hi,” he said, a wry smile playing on his lips. “Thought you’d drop by sooner or later.”

“Like I had a choice. What the fuck is going on?”

Tony drained his glass and retrieved another drink from the minibar.

“Sure you saw on the news.”

No pleasantries. No questions about where she’d been, why she hadn’t said a thing in eighteen months. Darcy thought of Bucky and how he’d asked her right away.

“Bucky said you shot Steve out of the sky.”

Tony clenched his empty fist and his eyes flashed with rage.

“ _Bucky_?”

“Yeah.”

Tony’s eyes went to Darcy’s naked left ring finger. He had the nerve to tut at her, shaking his head.

“Wow.”

“I’m not sleeping with him, if that’s what you think. I wouldn’t ever do that to Bruce.”

Tony didn’t seem entirely convinced, and took another sip from his drink. “I had the theory that the second Bruce left, you’d be with him.”

“What, to spite you or something? Is that really what you think of me?” Darcy snapped, wanting to slap the drink out of Tony’s hand like the last time she saw him.

She remembered them screaming at each other, how hurt he’d been, and how hurt she was about everything going wrong so spectacularly. They weren’t alone in the compound and yet she couldn’t remember anyone trying to break them up to tell them to calm down.

Tony looked away. Darcy scowled.

“You didn’t answer my question about Steve.”

“I did.” Tony’s voice sounded small.

“Doesn’t sound like you meant to.”

“Everything was out of control. You weren’t there, you wouldn’t know.”

Darcy felt like he’d punched her in the gut. She ran away and this was how her solitude repaid her. The whole world went on without her and she made a huge mistake. She knew that now. But it wasn’t like she could go back and change that, and Tony shouldn’t just throw that in her face.

“I know you just think I’m Bruce’s little wife. I was your little secretary. The one you called ‘kiddo’,” she hissed, leaning forward and forcing Tony to look back at her. “You need to make this right and help us find Steve. Because he’s not dead, as far as we know.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think that was why you came here.”

“What?”

“I thought you came here for Bruce.”

“You know where Bruce is?” Darcy didn’t care if she seemed eager. Bruce was her other half.

She felt the tears well in her eyes so suddenly she was surprised by them falling on her cheeks.

“And you know where Bucky is.”

Darcy let the other foot drop. As soon as any sympathy for Tony was felt, it left her in that moment. She leaned back into her seat and waited for the rage bubbling at the surface to calm.

“You and all your fucking secrets, Tony. You don’t protect me anymore.”

“You know I would never hurt you. But Bucky is still out there when he should be in custody.”

“Because you want to kill him! You don’t give a shit about his recovery.”

Darcy wanted to scream and cry; she wasn’t sure which first. Tony could be bluffing, but if he knew where Bruce was and she was _that close_ to finding out for herself, Darcy wasn’t sure how she would cope. She wouldn’t give up Bucky just so Tony could get his revenge on something that wasn’t even Bucky’s fault.

“It won’t bring your parents back, Tony.”

Whatever composure Tony had was gone. He threw his glass against the door beside him, the glass flying in every direction, but luckily Darcy had already covered her face with her hands in fright.

“Give me a quinjet.”

Darcy knew she was a sentence or two away from being arrested. She imagined Tony just taking it all out on her. In some ways, he could be worse than Bruce in terms of managing his anger.

Tony just turned to glare at her, and Darcy didn’t see someone she knew anymore.

“Fine,” she said, keeping still and blinking too much.

“Get out,” Tony managed through gritted teeth.

Darcy didn’t need to be asked twice. She slipped out of the limo, and stalked off down the street in the other direction.

She couldn’t stop shaking. She couldn’t walk properly, and bumped into a couple of people who stared at her, annoyed.

“Sorry.”

She wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. This had been a massive mistake and she was going to pay for it all. She was stupid for bringing Bucky and Natasha here.

When Darcy got back to the car, jumping into the back seat and pulling Natasha’s jacket tighter around her, Bucky and Natasha turned around to look at her.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked.

“Lew,” Bucky said, when Darcy stayed silent.

The words fell out of her, the news that Tony might know where Bruce was, but that he wasn’t going to give up that information without Bucky somehow turning himself in.

“That son of a bitch,” Bucky hissed, his eyes wild.

He reached for his door handle but Darcy grabbed his arm to pull him back.

“Bucky, don’t! We need to get out of here.”

“Back to Jersey?” Natasha asked, and Darcy shook her head.

Bucky stayed in his seat and growled. “Fuck that.”

“We need you to pull some of your contacts and find that Versailles Hydra cell Bucky talked about,” Darcy said to Natasha. “Because Tony didn’t say Steve was dead.”

Bucky and Natasha gave each other near undetectable nods.

“A trio is always better than a duo,” Darcy added. “And you two can stop looking like me at that every time I suggest helping, because you’re stuck with me, alright?”

Bucky smirked. “Alright, Lew.”  
  
“Give me my ring back, Nat,” Darcy said. “I’m not arrested, I may as well keep my valuables on me.”

Natasha pulled the wedding ring out from her jacket pocket and Darcy slipped it back on her finger.

It felt better with it on than off.

 

 


	8. viii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a huge mess that I smashed out in about three days. I just kept going and couldn't find a decent ending to this part without there being smut. Yes, it's finally here. Enjoy!  
> P.S. I've started a writing Tumblr - my username is grimeysociety :)

Once Upon a Dream by Lana Del Rey

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

**viii.**

_**THEN.** _

 

 

Darcy was beginning to understand more than ever that nothing ever went to plan.

She had started her night doing her hair and makeup and slipping into a gorgeous red chiffon off-the-shoulder dress with killer heels, and instead of avoiding Bruce altogether, she ended up making out with him in his hospital bed while there were people dying around them.

She admitted it was totally inappropriate, but when were things ever appropriate with her these days? Something close to never.

She got back up to her room and changed into her combat boots, khaki pants and a hoodie with her favourite burgundy beanie. She scrubbed all the makeup off and peeled off her fake eyelashes, and in her rush, left them somewhere on her bathroom sink.

She stomped most of the way out of the lobby when she was leaving, making sure there wasn’t anyone like Tony or Pepper in sight, but she guess they were still hidden away in the penthouse.

Darcy only hesitated for a second before leaving the building altogether. In that pause, she thought of why Steve had told her specifically not to bring Tony. She couldn’t think of anything immediately as a reason for excluding him, except maybe because Tony wasn’t always particularly sensitive in these kinds of moments.

Before tonight, Steve had thought Bucky was long gone back in a time over a half century ago.

Steve and Sam could bring their muscles and technical know-how, but Darcy would have to bring her guts and her sympathy.

It wasn’t that she was useless, but Darcy was surprised that Steve asked for her at all.

She imagined Bruce telling her not to discredit herself or something like that, and she gave herself a mental shove and went to find a taxi.

It took longer than she hoped to get out to Brooklyn, but she finally found the address Steve gave her, and shouldered a wooden door open.

There were sounds of people partying all over the area, and this building had somehow stayed abandoned and alone. It probably didn’t help that it seemed like it was beyond even the savviest of event planners for an end of year celebration.

It was dank, with part of the ceiling collapsed in just past the entrance. If a bat flew at her, Darcy wouldn’t be surprised, but she’d still probably scream.

“Darcy?”

An unfamiliar voice called out to her, male and low. Darcy walked further through and saw a man peaking his head out from behind a doorframe. He had to be Sam.

“Sam?”

“Yeah.”

They didn’t shake hands, but he gently took her arm and pulled her aside.

“Nice to meet you. Given the circumstances,” Sam muttered, eyebrows furrowed. “Steve says a lot about you.”

What Steve said exactly, Darcy wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

“Is Bucky here?”

Sam nodded. “Barnes is in the back with Steve. He’s kind of out of it.”

Darcy held up her bag. “I’ve got my first-aid kit.”

It really was hers. The padded bag everything came in, she’d decorated it with a few badges of birds, flowers and random favourite foods. She’d had this bag since Mexico.

“He’s probably not too badly hurt. From what we figure he’s a lot like Steve.”

“Oh. You mean, like, he’s enhanced?” Darcy said, and felt childish for putting it all so simply.

Sam nodded, and Darcy could have sworn he was annoyed.

Darcy started to shake a little. She trusted Steve no matter what, but there was no denying Bucky was highly dangerous and had just killed somebody right in front of his best friend’s eyes.

“Barnes was in some kind of trance. He kept coming at us,” Sam said, and Darcy could barely make out the cut on Sam’s arm in the dimly-lit hallway, but it shone bright red nonetheless.

“Let me help you.”

“It’s fine, I can patch it up,” Sam said, taking the bag from her and fishing out a bit of gauze and a bandage.

Darcy narrowed her eyes at him. Fucking _men_.

“You go ahead. Steve needs you.”

Darcy fought the urge to argue that Steve most likely wanted Natasha but that Darcy was the only alternative. Instead she took back her bag and walked off towards the light coming from the back room. Whatever this building was used for before, Darcy had no idea. It seemed like it was barely holding itself together.

A rat scurried in front of her and Darcy froze, clamping a hand on her mouth to smother a shriek.

“Oh, God!”

Darcy started stomping as a warning to any other rodent that was interested in crossing her. Not that she’d actually squash any of them. She couldn’t imagine the mess.

Ducking into the back room. She figured this place must have been some kind of factory once. The ceiling was high but there were was nothing decorative about the room. Three lights hung from above, and still Darcy couldn’t see too well.

Steve was standing in a back corner and came towards her.

“Heard you arrive,” he said as he indicated his ear. “Glad you came.”

“Of course,” Darcy said, though she still felt a little confused. “Where is he?”

Steve stepped aside and she saw the figure sitting on the floor with his back resting on the wall. Bucky Barnes’ face was obscured by curtains of long straight brown hair.

He still wore the black bulletproof vest Darcy saw in the Twitter photo, but now he seemed grimier and his eyes didn’t have the same menace to them as before.

He just looked exhausted.

“Bucky.”

The word slipped out before Darcy realised it and she stopped, keeping herself still and as visible as possible to him as she could.

From a distance, he regarded her and tilted his head.

“Usually when someone new comes in the room they either want something from me or they beat the shit outta me,” he mumbled, his voice rough. “Or both.”

Darcy slowly held up her bag. She couldn’t see any kind of weapon on Bucky but she wasn’t about to scare him either, just in case.

“It’s okay, Darcy,” Steve whispered. “He knows who he is.”

Bucky coughed. “Barely.”

Sam came back into the room and scoffed, securing his bandage on his forearm.

“So it’s like that, huh?” Sam snapped. “He says it’s cool and then we’re all cool?”

Steve didn’t react. He seemed as sure of himself and Bucky as Darcy expected him to be; almost stubbornly loyal. Bucky gave Steve a look that had Darcy’s maternal instincts set in, and she finally stepped forward.

She got right up to Bucky and knelt beside him, looking him over.

“She was like this with Thor when he first got to Earth,” Steve said, a hint of pride detectable in his tone. “After she tasered him, of course.”

Bucky flinched, but Darcy ignored his reaction and instead reached out and touched his hair, gently pushing it out of his eyes. He stared up at her, wide-eyed.

It made Darcy feel better knowing that Steve did actually want her to be there because of her intense ability to care for people. It frightened her a lot of the time when she went so far out of her way to be helpful. She did it with everyone. She cared too much about people, including her parents, and look where that had got her.

She looked up at Sam, who was shaking his head at her.

“What do you remember about tonight?” She asked Bucky, and he let his eyes wander in thought.

“Target was Jacobi,” he said, chewing his lip. “But I fucked up.”

“Because you saw me, and I said your name,” Steve said, crossing his arms. “So what happens now?”

“Hydra will most likely get to me. I’ll be wiped. Then cryo.”

Darcy kept looking at each man before her, trying to follow.

“Wiped? Cryo?”

Bucky’s eyes swivelled to hers, and for whatever reason, Darcy felt disarmed completely by those eyes. All the rage and hurt in the world couldn’t describe them.

“I get the shocks. Then I go under.”

Darcy really felt like she was out of place then. She knew Natasha would be a better fit for all this. Darcy was too messy and emotional to handle this being thrown at her.

“For a second, I could’ve sworn you were here to give me my next target.”

Darcy could only stare and slowly shake her head.

“Are you scared of me?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, because she couldn’t justify lying.

He could easily just be a very good liar and had somehow lured them all here to kill them. She also knew lying to him wouldn’t help in understanding him or the situation. Lying meant a lack of exposure, and she needed it to be an even playing field.

“Why Mayor Jacobi?”

“Don’t know,” muttered Bucky. His jaw ticked. “You shouldn’t be here. None of you should be here.”

“It’s too late for that,” Darcy retorted, and she looked his face over again and saw he had cut his ear.

She retrieved a bit of a rag from her bag and moved closer to Bucky, gingerly dabbing at the cut to wipe away some of the congealed blood.

Bucky made a sound in the back of his throat when she went at it with her antiseptic cream. He grabbed at her wrist to stop her with his left hand, the metal one.

It felt cool on her skin, but also like there was a warmth hidden away amongst all the shining plates that made up his entire limb.

“Are you at least going to let me put a bandage or something on that?” Darcy tried, and Bucky narrowed his eyes.

“Nope.”

Darcy snatched back her wrist, cheeks burning.

“You know what? I chose to come down here even though there’s a really great guy back in the Tower waiting for me to –”

“Does she mean Banner?” Sam asked Steve, somewhere above Darcy’s head.

“Good for them,” Steve added.

Darcy shot up from her spot on the dirty floor and glared at the pair of them.

“ _How_ do you both know about that?” Darcy paused. “Never mind.”

She took the bag with her and made for the exit, but Steve grabbed her shoulder and forced her to look at him.

“JARVIS is going to tell Tony the second he asks that I left the Tower. Tony will know I’m out here somewhere with you, and he’s not going to act rationally since your friend executed the mayor at his fucking party,” Darcy hissed.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Bucky put his face in his hands.

“I suggest waiting for Natasha to get back before asking him anything else. I’m not of any use to you.”

It was Sam’s turn to butt in, but she glowered back at him. He put up his hands.

“I was just going to say that you’re doing the best you can and we appreciate it.”

“Also, I heard about how in San Antiguo you saved all those animals at the shelter,” Steve added, one eyebrow raised. “You’re good at this.”

“What, rescuing helpless animals?” Darcy gestured to Bucky on the floor. “Is he supposed to be a lost dog or something?”

“I would say cat, actually,” Sam said, giving Bucky another look. “He’s like a weird… cat.”

“If he was a weird cat, I’d just take him back to the Tower and let him stay. But because he’s Bucky -”

Steve cut in. “Tony can’t know where he is.”

“You haven’t even told me how he’s here. Now you don’t tell me why Tony can’t help.”

“Because I killed Stark’s parents,” Bucky said, and Darcy looked down to see him staring up at her.

He raked his fingers through his hair and stood up, wincing a little as he steadied himself.

Darcy felt her heart jump into her throat at his words. For the longest time, Tony told her he was orphaned in his twenties because his parents were in a car crash.

“Hydra had him under some kind of mind control, like they did tonight. Bucky’s been killing people for Hydra since the 1950s,” Steve said, looking from Darcy and back to Bucky.

Something clicked into place and Darcy felt herself start to shake again. He wasn’t an old man or dead because he’d been frozen, like Steve, except cryogenically.

“So, Nazi conspiracy that’s very much still alive, check,” Darcy managed to say, but she felt far away from herself, like she wasn’t really there. “And an assassin who killed my boss’ parents twenty years ago.”

All of a sudden, Bucky pushed passed them and set off for the front door.

“I have to go.”

Steve grabbed his arm. “Where are you going to go, Buck?”

“Wherever I can, _punk_ ,” Bucky countered, looking thoroughly irritated by Steve’s concern. “The girl’s got a point. I’m feelin’ pretty useless just sittin’ around here.”

If Darcy wasn’t so scared she’d probably snap at him for not referring to her by name.

“You can’t leave! You just got here!” Steve yelled, and Bucky faltered for a second.

There was a hint of desperation in Steve’s tone, and it couldn’t be ignored. Darcy looked away, her eyes suddenly burning. This whole night had been a constant whirlwind. She hadn’t stopped long enough and she was scared that if she slowed down she’d finally start to weep and never stop. People had died. She kissed Bruce. She saw Bucky Barnes in the flesh.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Darcy whispered.

She left the room without another word, and didn’t look at any of them. She needed a moment, just a second, to keep herself present. She could float away.

She burst out into the back alley and started pounding her fists on the brick wall. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate. She couldn’t remembering tasting anything, either. The only thing she could remember was savouring the way Bruce tasted on her tongue. She wished she’d stayed in his bedroom.

Did she wish she’d never come to New York?

Now that she knew this about Tony’s past, how could she look him in the eye again? What were they supposed to do about Steve’s fugitive best friend?

Darcy found herself yelling and shoving at the wall now, with no real idea what she was doing.

“Fuck!”

She couldn’t do this. Whatever this was. She couldn’t actually keep herself together.

Somebody tugged her back, pulling her away from the wall. They pinned her hands behind her back and willed her to stop with the force of stone.

It was Bucky.

“Stop it, stop it,” he said, voice low in her ear. “Sweetheart, you’re gonna to kill yourself.”

Steve and Sam were out there now, too. They all looked at her wide-eyed.

Bucky turned her around to look at her with his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” he whispered. “You don’t know me.”

“It’s okay,” Darcy heard herself say. Though she knew it wasn’t really.

“Thanks for helping with the… ear,” Bucky said, suddenly awkward. He probably expected Darcy to hate him. He kept looking at her like he wasn’t sure of anything.

“Me and Bucky are going to take off,” Steve piped up. “Sam will take you back.”

Bucky took a few steps away from her and looked away. Darcy knew he was beautiful once, but now he hid himself away from everyone. She wondered if they would have got along if she saw the old him, the one from before all this.

She wasn’t equipped for this, and she knew Steve was. She’d just brought a first-aid kit.

 

* * *

 

Sam insisted on looking at her hands when he brought her back to the Tower. She’d bruised the heel of her right palm, but there wasn’t much visible damage otherwise. The taxi ride was silent, but Sam kept looking over at her, and Darcy chose to ignore any of his attention by staring out the window at all the people in the streets still celebrating the New Year.

Darcy envied every single person they drove past.

Sam paid the cab driver and stood with her just outside the Tower.

“What the hell am I supposed to tell anyone when they ask where I was?”

“Just tell them you stepped out,” Sam said with a shrug.

“I stepped out for an hour? Yeah, right.”

“Tell them you were with me, then!”

That would probably just confuse everyone because Darcy hadn’t met Sam before tonight. She screwed up her face and groaned.

“I’ll come up with something. Let’s assume you’ll be back sometime soon because SHIELD will be questioning everybody,” Darcy rolled her eyes as she said this, wanting a cigarette.

Sam just gave a short laugh. “Okay, Darcy.”

“You know where I live,” Darcy said as a goodbye, and went inside.

* * *

  
  
She didn’t sleep.

Even with her exhaustion seeping into her bones, with the way that it all bore down on her and dragged her to her mattress, she didn’t get a wink.

Around 9 AM Darcy heard her phone vibrate beside her and saw a text message from Tony:

**MEETING WITH FURY IN TEN**

Darcy felt sick, and rubbed her eyes with no relief from her tiredness. There was an inescapable dread that filled her all the way up, threatening to spill over onto Tony if he dared to ask her too many questions himself. She prayed he wouldn’t see the guilt in her eyes, or see the lie she’d have to tell.

She couldn’t bear the thought of sitting him down to tell him how his parents _really_ died, and because she was a coward and always had been, Darcy wasn’t going to tell him.

Darcy threw on different clothes but felt like it didn’t do her any good. She knew she looked as bad as she felt inside and nothing was going to change that.

She didn’t eat anything before she dashed off to the conference room several levels below her.

The conference room itself was mostly empty except for Fury, Tony, a couple people in suits Darcy had never seen before, and Bruce.

Darcy’s heart soared at the sight of him, and she broke out in a wide grin, wanting to cry because she’d felt too much in too short amount of time. She wished so badly she’d slept.

She walked over to him and he took her hand in his, and she felt safe.

Fury stopped talking to the two strangers beside him and quirked the eyebrow above his eyepatch.

“Where’s Rogers?”

Everyone was looking at Darcy, who could only shrug.

“I tried to find him last night with Agent Wilson. Couldn’t.”

She didn’t sound at all convincing, and Tony just gave her a long look instead of pretending otherwise. She gripped Bruce’s hand a lot tighter and she commended him for not crying out in pain.

“Agent Sam Wilson?” Fury asked, and then he stopped to think. “Okay.”

“Steve tried chasing after the shooter. He called me after I got Bruce out of the med bay.”

She felt herself blush. She would make a terrible spy. Thank God that wasn’t her job.

“Well, these are Agents Carlisle and Tanner from the FBI, and they’re here to conduct interviews about the events last night,” said Fury, not looking at all welcoming towards them by crossing his arms. “Not that I have any idea why the hell they’re needed to investigate.”

The agents were both ordinary looking guys with identical shaved heads, and the shorter one cleared his throat and stared down everyone.

“The President asked for a full investigation into this terrorist plot. Considering Mayor Jacobi was the target at a SHIELD social event, I think it’s reasonable to assume some kind of corruption within the organisation.”

Darcy felt something like ice in her gut. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, she hadn’t planned anything like this to happen at the party. As the event planner she was only guilty of not _quadruple_ -checking the wait staff list she approved. Pepper had looked at it twice. Tony even gave it a vague once over.

“Miss Lewis,” said the other agent, looking down his long nose at her. “Would you please come with us?”

Bruce didn’t let go of her hand and muttered to Fury, “Does she need a lawyer for any of this?”

Darcy’s mouth went dry and she imagined being carted away and thrown into some anonymous jail cell.

“We just need to ask her some questions,” said the short one again, a fake smile plastered on his face. The smug prick.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m afraid of –”

“Bruce, it’s okay,” Darcy said, her voice small and weary. “I’ll go.”

She looked up at Bruce and nodded a few times. He looked at her like he wanted to say something else but that it wasn’t the right place or time.

The taller agent beckoned Darcy to follow them out of the room and down a corridor to another smaller, sterile room.

There was only a small table and three chairs, two on one side of the table, and one alone on the other. Darcy knew which one was her chair.

She sat down, feeling numb. She contemplated the glass of water beside her elbow but left it be, watching the agents set down folders, pens, and a briefcase.

Tanner announced their presence to JARVIS and that there was an interview being conducted and that anything said would be recorded for the investigation. Darcy noted Carlisle must be the tall one.

“Miss Lewis, you were in charge of organising the party last night.”

“Yes.” Darcy stared at her hands.

“And part of that would include procuring a catering company and wait staff.”

“Yes.”

Darcy dug her fingers into her bruised right palm until the dull pain was all she felt, not the way her body kept shivering, or how her knee kept jogging up and down.

“Pretty stressful, organising an event at that scale,” piped up Carlisle.

Darcy’s eyes snapped up. She knew what he was trying to do.

“I did an excellent job.”

“You are aware of the fourteen deaths – and counting – which happened because of a waiter you hired distracting security last night, Miss Lewis?”

“He was wearing a fake vest.”

“And then his associates along with Mayor Jacobi’s murderer were able to attack partygoers,” Tanner said, ignoring Darcy’s comment altogether. “You are aware of the fourteen murders from last night, Miss Lewis? At a party you were in charge of?”

Darcy clenched her jaw. “Yes.”

Tanner opened the briefcase and brought out some more papers, and looked them over.

“This is a list of all the confirmed deaths. The youngest here is an intern with Stark Industries.”

He threw the papers to Darcy’s side of the table.

“Eighteen years-old. April Meyers.”

Darcy felt her eyes prickle. “Whatever mistake was made… it was just that. A mistake.”

The agents didn’t seem to react to anything Darcy was saying or doing. They were waiting for her to slip up and confess some kind of fault.

Darcy balled her hands into fists.

“What about the Winter Soldier?” Tanner asked, and Darcy felt blindsided by his sudden change of subject, but she guessed this was just another tactic.

“Who’s the Winter Soldier?”

“A person who’s been alluding the agency, SHIELD… basically any organisation on Earth affected by him for the past sixty-odd years,” Carlisle drawled. “And last night’s job on Jacobi seemed like his kind of gig.”

It was then that Darcy realised these two weren’t concerned at all about the party last night; they only cared about finding Bucky.

And Carlisle called it a ‘gig’, reducing all the suffering in Bucky’s small world to a single nonchalant syllable hardly worth remembering.

“I don’t know anything about that. I didn’t see Jacobi get shot. I heard about it from Steve – Steve Rogers. Captain America.”

Tanner looked at Carlisle and sighed. “You see? That’s the problem with these vigilante types. Don’t follow any kind of moral compass. Let us pick up the pieces for them.”

Darcy wanted to remind them that Steve had volunteer multiple times to help clean up the city, and spent most of his time trying to help everyone in whatever way possible. She couldn’t have said anything nice about the guy and they still probably would have ignored her.

“Steve went after the killer and I couldn’t reach him. He doesn’t let this kind of thing just _go_ ,” Darcy insisted, “And for a _vigilante type_ , I’d say he’s one of the best on our side.”

Tanner and Carlisle just looked at each other, having some kind of silent conversation Darcy was sure would need several levels of security clearance to hear. Tanner just shook his head at Carlisle after a minute.

“That’s all, Miss Lewis. Thank you for your time.”

Darcy gaped at them. “Okay.”

Darcy left the room in a daze, and only came back to herself fully when she was in the elevator back to her room. She couldn’t think of where else to go. She doubted anyone would be working today, after last night. The agents would be interviewing Tony and Bruce now, and Darcy wondered if they’d grill them about Bucky, too.

How was she supposed to explain any of this to SHIELD if they asked? She couldn’t just say Bucky was brainwashed and cryogenically frozen and have them immediately believe her. She needed Steve here to make her credible.

She crashed the second she got back to her bed. She supposed it was her body’s way of protesting any further panic, any further thought unless she slept. She was thankful for the few hours she got.

 

* * *

 

Darcy was awoken by JARVIS in the afternoon, and she rolled onto her back and stretched.

“What’s happening, JARVIS?”

“I noticed your phone was ringing but you have it on silent –”

“Shh!” she hissed at the AI, and looked at the number displayed on the phone screen.

Bruce. There were suddenly butterflies in her stomach and her heart beat faster.

“Bruce?”

“Hey! I just – I wanted to know if you’re okay.”

He sounded a little unsure of himself again like he was second guessing every word and struggling to just articulate his feelings.

“I’m fine, they only talked to me for a little bit,” Darcy said, and she sat up in bed. She played with a lock of her hair. “What about you?”

“They asked me about who the gunman was. They’re still talking to Tony, since he was the one who saw him the closest. The other guy… he makes my memories foggy most of the time.”

There was a silence, and Darcy listened to Bruce’s breathing down the line and bit her lip.

“Where are you?”

“My room,” Darcy said. “I was napping.”

“Can I come… see you?”

He sounded shy and hesitant. There was a rustle on his end and she was sure he was scratching his head.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, “Please come.”

“Okay, I’ll… be up there soon. Ten minutes. I’ve just got to… Well, see you soon.”

He sounded all flustered and Darcy smiled a little to herself as she said goodbye.

Darcy ran around her apartment, throwing clothes into her cupboard, putting dishes in the sink, combing her hair, washing her face. She was in such a hurry she skidded on bare feet when there was the knock on her door.

She rushed to answer, her heart feeling like it was going to beat out of her chest.

There stood Bruce, peering down at her with his rich brown eyes, so warm and kind. She gave a shy smile and pulled him in, shutting the door behind them.

“We didn’t really get to talk before,” Bruce began, “And the time before then…”

“You were pretty high,” Darcy finished.

“My mind was pretty clear.”

He leaned in and kissed her, and Darcy wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body closer to hers. She sighed into the kiss, drawing her tongue across his mouth, capturing his moan as he opened for her with his hand in her hair, the other wrapped around her waist.

They kept kissing, until they’d shuffled up to the couch, and Darcy pushed Bruce into it, and she landed on top of him, their chests pressed together.

She loved how _not_ awkward this was. This was so easy for her to fall into. Bruce’s hand wandered from her waist until it was under her shirt, gliding up to her breast and cupping the soft fabric of her bra. Darcy shivered and became more clumsy and desperate with her kisses, teeth clacking more than once.

She broke their kiss to go for his throat, mouthing at his Adam’s apple, making a trail down to his clavicle, rubbing her face on the chest hair peeking through his shirt.

“You’re trembling,” Bruce breathed, and he sounded far off.

Darcy was a mixture of nervousness and excitement. She felt wobbly and this all felt like a dream she would soon wake from. She was scared by how badly she wanted him, and how much this all meant to her.

She tilted her head up towards him again and didn’t take her eyes of his.

“I need you.”

Bruce shot up from his lying position on the couch and caught her in a crushing kiss, all demanding and wet. He groaned as Darcy caught his bottom lip between her teeth in a grazing tease.

They were both sitting and pawing at each other, his hands roving over her chest, giving rough squeezes as she gasped in his ear. There was a desperate throbbing between her legs just by him touching her. He wasn’t even near _there_ and he was making her melt.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and unbuttoned it a fraction of the way, just so she could get closer to his skin, and rubbed her face on him more, nipping him along his collar bone and chest.

She was suddenly aware of his hand down the front of her sweatpants, and she felt her heart stutter start at the thought of him going lower, and satisfying that aching need.

“C-condoms,” Bruce sputtered, and Darcy stopped moving.

“I’m on the pill. You’re clean?”

“Yeah,” Bruce managed to reply. “Are you?”

“Yeah. No condom.”

Bruce gave her a dark look that she knew meant he wanted to completely wreck her. It was the kind of look that could scare someone, but Darcy couldn’t have wanted anything more.

They were kissing again, Bruce’s hand still in her pants, and Darcy made to move off the couch.

“Bedroom.”

“Just –”

Bruce’s hand shoved further down, fingers ghosting over her slit, making Darcy gasp and shudder again. “Hold that thought.”

He moved so painfully slow Darcy gave a frustrated little cry at the back of her throat, trying to rock her hips into him. She was soaking in his fingers, and she watched him gaze at her with blown out eyes, his jaw clenched. He was gliding slowly, so slowly over her slit, grazing her clit. She jumped a little at his touch, desperate for him to curl a finger inside her, but he didn’t relent.

His other hand was on her breast, kneading it as Darcy tried to find more friction. She was struggling under him, trying her hardest to get some kind of relief. Knowing he wouldn’t oblige, Darcy tried another tactic.

She pulled his hand away from her heat and brought his forefinger up to her mouth, kissing it, then looking right at him as she pulled it into her mouth, giving it a long suck, tasting herself on his digit, dragging her tongue slowly along it.

“Oh,” Bruce mused. “ _Fuck_.”

He didn’t take his eyes off her, his jaw still clenched as he breathed heavily. Darcy reached for his other hand and pulled him off the couch and they went to her bedroom.

She pushed – or Bruce let her push him – onto her bed. He watched as she took of her hooded jacket, and her T-shirt.

She made a show of slowly unbuckling her bra and letting it slide to the floor with her other clothes. This moment lived up to the fantasy, because all Bruce could do was lie there propped up on his elbows and stare as she undressed for him. Now she was completely naked and exposed, and she felt more than okay.

She was on top of him again, pressing her body into his, moaning at every little kiss and touch.

“You feel so good,” Bruce breathed, “You’re so beautiful.”

He moved away from her, and Darcy made a little whine of protest. He only chuckled, moving so he was now the one staying by the bed.

He undressed a little less ceremoniously than she had, but Darcy never felt more turned on than when he was unbuckling his pants and pulling down his boxer briefs. His cock was thicker than she had expected, and Darcy’s mouth was dry at the thought of him stretching her.

“ _You’re_ so beautiful,” Darcy breathed, and she realised Bruce was _blushing_.

Darcy was too distracted by his bashful face to notice what he was doing until he was kneeling and reaching for her the hips and –

“Oh, my _God_ ,” she moaned, her eyes rolling back as Bruce dragged his tongue right along her pussy, from the bottom all the way to her clit in one slow, strong stroke.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

He was sucking and licking her like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Everyone else before him who’d attempted going down on Darcy had been so tentative and unsure, whereas Bruce was so confident in his ability to make her a quivering, babbling mess.

And the _sounds_ he was making her make. She’d never heard herself sound like this before. She was simultaneously pulling him closer to her and pushing him back. He pulled at her hands, clutching them in his on her hips, rocking her against his mouth.

It was almost too much. She could die from this – wanting him this much, from enjoying this intense feeling between her legs that coursed along her whole body.

Her back arched as she came hard, lifting her hips and Bruce off the bed. He kept himself pinned between her thighs, kissing her there more, sucking her clit and grazing his five o’clock shadow against her sensitive skin.

Darcy tried to twist away from him, to pull herself away completely, but he kept her trapped in his grasp, tongue fucking her until she was screaming and coming again.

He finally stopped, and came up for air, wiping his mouth with his hands and panting like Darcy was.

When she kissed him this time, it was lazier and slow because she was so worn out. Her legs felt weak as he climbed on top of her and peered down into her eyes.

His eyes closed as she reached between them and held his cock in her hand. It stood hot and flushed in her palm, the tip shining with precome.

Darcy licked her lips and anticipated the feeling of him inside her and kissed him again, stroking him slowly between them. She could feel him pressing into her touch, like he was the one craving friction this time.

She spread herself a little wider for him and guided him between her legs. He pushed inside in one smooth, fluid movement. Her breath left her body and this was her entire world. She noticed the beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead and wiped them away with her thumb. They lay still for some time, just kissing and sighing as she became accustomed to him inside her.

Darcy slowly wrapped her thighs around his hips, beckoning him to start moving. Bruce was so slow at first that she dug her heel into his ass to prompt him, and the moan that he ripped from her lips was enough to egg him on.

He slammed into her, drunk on the feeling of her around him. She liked how she could make him lose control with a look, a touch. She arched her back and he bit the swell of her breast, then kissed away the pain with soothing lips and tongue.

She could feel her orgasm building as he got faster, harder. His breathing was a heavy pant and he was pressing her into the mattress like she might make a run for it.

“I want to make you come again,” he gasped, looking at Darcy’s lips and she licked them. “Tell me what to do.”

“Keep doing – ah – that,” Darcy choked, and slipped a hand between them to rub her clit.

He watched her, mesmerised as she fell apart underneath him. He sped up, hips snapping, and he was almost too much for her. She grabbed his hand and guided it to the mass of her hair, and tugged at it roughly.

“Pull my hair.”

He did as he was told, and Darcy gave a delighted moan of approval. “Just like that.”

“I’m gonna – come –”

He pulled out, and Darcy finished him off with her hands. He came with a guttural groan, the vein on his forehead throbbing as he spilled onto her stomach, his body tensed up above her.

He was panting, barely managing to keep himself from collapsing on her.

“Fuck, that was a lot,” Darcy murmured, looking at the mess pooling at her navel. “You came so much.”

Bruce nodded with a shaky laugh.

 

 

 

 


	9. ix.

The Man by The Killers

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

**ix.**

_**NOW.** _

 

Darcy changed her mind. Or, she made it seem like she’d had a change of heart somewhere between seeing Tony and then going back to the city alone a day later.

She wore a Chanel suit this time, with huge sunglasses that made her look like a bug. She donned pastels and kept her long mane loose and wavy. This was meant to be like a massive seduction and everybody needed to know who she was, and who she knew.

 She wasn’t like herself, and Darcy was comforted by that alone.

Natasha and Bucky were far away – off somewhere in the outskirts of Versailles, France. Natasha’s friend who’d evaded Interpol thanks to her some years back owed her a favour, and Natasha got a black and white photo of a satellite image showing a building with several trucks surrounding it.

“According to my source, Steve is here,” Natasha said, pointing to her laptop screen as they planned again for the final time in the Jeep.

Instead of flying off together, Darcy gave herself what she never wanted – a reality check. She could be a team player by staying behind, and it wasn’t as if she was completely useless being back in the States while Natasha and Bucky went to rescue Steve in France.

Her task was to garner as much sympathy as possible for Bucky and Steve. She would play the demure, grieving friend to anyone who would listen. She’d find it in her heart to forgive Tony for his little attempt at bribing her into giving away Bucky’s location in exchange for Bruce.

All the while, Darcy would be sharpening her claws and waiting for the precise moment to pounce.

Darcy called Pepper Potts the second her feet landed on the pavement in Manhattan. She turned to tip the cab driver and gave him a small, charming smile. She even gave the guy a little wave goodbye, although she was sure he’d deliberately taken her a block out of the way to jack up the price.

Pepper sounded breathless on the other end of the line.

“Darcy, _why_ are you calling me on this number?”

“I’m guessing you’re aware of the urgency, then?”

Pepper sounded flustered. “Tony said he saw you yesterday but you weren’t –“

If Pepper was about to say ‘you weren’t in your right mind’, Darcy was sure she’d scream, but she talked over her before she could finish.

“I’m calling in a favour.”

Darcy let Pepper guess which favour she was referring to, because between the two women they both knew Darcy was owed a lot for being Tony’s assistant all that time ago. There were countless fires put out to say the least.

Nothing could be smoothed over so easily, and yet Darcy found Pepper more than happy to oblige.

Tony met with Darcy again, but this time in a mutual territory, at a diner neither of them particularly favoured, but Darcy wanted a cheap cup of coffee.

Tony was wearing his tinted sunglasses again and a pressed suit, and looked Darcy over quizzically when he arrived at their booth and sat down opposite her.

“This is a surprise.”

“I went shopping.”

“Clearly.”

She didn’t come across as an inconsolable friend of Captain America, but he wasn’t who she meant to appeal to. She propped her elbows up on the table and tilted her head.

“You’re not going to ask me where Bruce is?” Tony quipped, looking over the menu with mild interest before pushing it aside and taking off his glasses.

He looked tired, like always.

“I figured you weren’t going to tell me,” Darcy said airily, shrugging.

“He doesn’t want to be found, that’s what he told me a year ago. In this lame, pedestrian _barely_ encrypted message I got.”

Darcy felt her façade waver before fitting back into place. She didn’t know what she expected from this conversation, only that if Bruce didn’t want to be found, he had a very good excuse.

He could be suicidal. He could just resent her that much. But why couldn’t he send her divorce papers like everyone else did?

Darcy waved over a waitress and ordered a slice of apple pie with ice cream.

“Tony, I asked you here because I’m going to salvage Steve in whatever way I can. After you dragged him through the dirt for offending you.”

“He hid a fugitive from me that he knew killed my parents. And so did you.”

They only glared at one another for a moment, and then Darcy remembered they were once friends, and that she loved working for him. All that time ago when she cared about what people thought of her. She didn’t know when she lost that, but it had been ripped away sometime between her miscarriage and now.

“Bucky got his arm and his freewill taken away from him, and you blame me and Steve for wanting to keep him safe and away from people like you?”

The waitress dropped the plate of Darcy’s pie in front of her and sauntered away.

“People like me?”

“People like you are the ones who keep Bucky in the same box like he chose all this. He regrets every day what he did to your family.”

Tony scoffed. “So why did he run away?”

“Because you were going to _kill_ him!” Darcy yelled, her mouth full. “He already doesn’t trust anybody. He spent years away trying to find every copy of his book of triggers to stop anything like that ever happening again.”

“He should have stayed! He should have let me and SHIELD work something out to protect everyone. How are we supposed to pretend everyone is safe when there’s a guy like him out in the world who could flip his switch at any second?”

“The world isn’t safe, Tony! And everybody knows that.”

“I tried to get Steve to agree to this, to be accountable. We have to be put in check.”

Darcy shook her head and laughed harshly. “Either way, he’s missing.”

Tony lowered his voice and didn’t take his eyes of her. “Everybody is looking for him. And I know Barnes and Natasha are out there, too. I know because I let them go without getting arrested.”

Darcy stopped chewing and swallowed hard.

“Good.”

“So what are you doing here with me?”

“I’m warning you that things are about to get messier.”

“Oh, really?”

Tony had already gone back to being cocky and unconvinced, which only made Darcy want to humiliate him faster.

“I’m going to do an interview with the New York Times.”

Tony made a sound like he was trying to form a sentence, and Darcy went back to her pie. It was a delicious as she’d hoped it would be.

“I’m going to tell them everything.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short and annoying, I know. There will be a lot more in the next chapter though, I promise!


	10. x.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut. There is some!

Little Monster by Royal Blood

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

**x.**

**_THEN._ **

****

  
  
  
  
Bruce collapsed beside Darcy on the bed completely out of breath.

Instead of immediately grabbing tissues, Darcy watched his face for any sign that he could be changing. They hadn’t talked about the risk. Everything had happened so quickly.

He still panted but Bruce’s skin didn’t change in colour and he seemed to be settling.

Darcy grabbed the tissue box from her side table and began to clean up, before leaving for the bathroom. Something told her not to think about everything too much. This had been their first time, so maybe she shouldn’t put labels on anything, or give any indication that this was a significant moment for her.

She’d managed to go from feeling like her feelings for Bruce were unrequited to having his tongue inside her in a space of a few days. When she thought back on it more as she showered, soaping her skin and scrubbing her face – Darcy knew there had been a tension between them since the very start.

Maybe she’d just destroyed the self-control Bruce thought he had. Maybe he wanted a physical relief from the stress of everything.

Maybe he just really wanted to fuck her.

Darcy stared at herself in the mirror, tucking her hair behind her ears and moving closer to the glass to see herself up close. Her lips were swollen and she still looked flushed from her orgasms.

She dried off and padded back to her bedroom where Bruce was lying on his back still, staring at the ceiling.

Darcy dressed in silence and sat next to him on the bed.

“We still need to talk.”

Darcy’s heart sank and she swallowed. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry for just – jumping on you like that,” Bruce murmured, grabbing at the blankets to cover himself a little. “That was scary.”

“Don’t apologize,” Darcy said, hoping he didn’t really regret it. “You mean, Hulk scary?”

Bruce burst out laughing, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“No! Scary _good_.”

“Oh!”

Darcy felt herself blush. She didn’t even have to think about it – that was the best sex she’d ever had, and that wasn’t so crazy – that was just missionary.

“Sorry I didn’t last too long,” Bruce added, peeking out from behind his arm with a bashful look of his own.

“Would you _stop_ apologizing?”

Darcy prodded his ribs and shook her head.

They just looked at each other and Darcy felt the urge to tell him the truth.

“Bruce, I –”

She faltered, not quite sure how to tell him everything. The words in her head felt like a jumble.

“I found Bucky last night. I lied to Fury.”

Bruce sat up, frowning.

“Uh. Okay.”

“Hydra has been using him as an assassin for the past sixty years. Did those FBI guys ask about the Winter Soldier?”

“Is that Bucky?”

“I think so,” Darcy said, biting her lip. “And now Steve’s gone with him and I don’t know what to do.”

“Steve shouldn’t have dragged you into this,” Bruce said, shaking his head and looking back up at the ceiling to think. “When’s Natasha back?”

“I’m guessing tonight. She’s in Ibiza.”

“Natasha will know what to do. We’ll talk to her.”

 _We._ Bruce’s hand found Darcy’s and squeezed.

“Natasha is going to kill me.”

“Why, because you tried to do the right thing?”

“I wasn’t strong enough to make them stay. I should have got Bucky somewhere safe. I didn’t cope.”

Bruce stared at her, confused. Darcy turned her right hand over to reveal her bruised palm.

“I hit it against a wall. I freaked out.”

She heard Bruce suck in a breath, and he scrubbed his knuckles over her bruised skin with his eyebrows knitted together.

“Have you eaten today?”

He asked it in such a small voice that Darcy could barely hear it. But she did, and fought against her usual reaction which was to lie, and keep to the idea that the less he knew, the better.

“No,” Darcy said, and felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

It was funny how she could have sex with the guy she’d been in love with for months and still felt over exposed by a question related to food.

 

* * *

 

So they got an early dinner. They walked hand in hand around Manhattan and found a hole-in-the-wall pizza joint Bruce knew and they both ate greedily.

Darcy was giddy with happiness. They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, and they were constantly smiling at one another. Darcy just couldn’t stop.

Darcy felt like this was the most honest she’d been with another person in a long time, and she had a feeling it was the same for Bruce. The way he looked at her, and the way he was smiling freely – she wished she could make him that happy always, all the time.

“How are you feeling?”

Darcy asked him as they were wandering back arm in arm, the sun setting over the skyline.

“I’m feeling pretty good,” Bruce said, giving her a playful nudge with his elbow. “Considering I hadn’t had sex in a few years and I didn’t know how it was going to go.”

Darcy smirked. “I had fun. How long had it been?”

It was probably rude to ask, but she was too curious for her own good. It was the story of Darcy’s love life in general.

Bruce gave an awkward laugh. “Uh… like, six years?”

Darcy gaped. “You’re kidding!”

“I’m not,” Bruce said, blushing. “I wasn’t exaggerating. That’s why I…”

He leaned in closer to her as he lowered his voice, which Darcy found especially adorable.

“… _Came_ so much on you.”

Darcy nodded, smiling again. She loved this shameless side of her. She couldn’t wait to make him do it all over again.

She stopped, clutching his chin and bringing him down in a greedy kiss. Bruce made a surprised noise, and eased into it, wrapping an arm around her waist.

The eventually broke apart, Bruce’s eyes looking close to black with his pupils so dilated. He stared at Darcy’s mouth.

“You’re so young.”

“I’m twenty-three.”

Bruce groaned, biting his lip now. “That’s –”

“And you’re forty.”

A few weeks ago Bruce had a low key birthday that would have otherwise gone by quietly if Tony hadn’t made the point of sending him a massive 40 Today button that made Bruce cringe and hide away from everyone.

“I’m old enough to be your fath-”

Darcy crashed her mouth against his to shut him up, to keep him from trying to ruin this between them. Was it so crazy for her to think that they fit together?

They broke apart again, and Bruce sighed, resigned.

It was a mood killer, but it had to happen eventually – Natasha called to tell Darcy she was back, and that she was waiting for her at the Tower. Darcy promised to meet at her desk, and gave Bruce a shrug when she hung up.

“Reality calling.”

“Damn.”

He reached out to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll come with you.”

He wasn’t asking, he’d already decided. Darcy felt her heart swell.

 

* * *

 

 

They found Natasha at Darcy’s desk, and the look on her face told them the disturbing news that the Black Widow, with her usually fierce and unflinching stare, was afraid.

“You have to tell me everything from the beginning,” she implored Darcy, who felt her heart sink again.

She went back to the start, explaining the attack during the New Year’s party, the fake suicide vest and Bucky Barnes popping up to shoot the mayor point blank, only to scurry off a second later. She told Natasha about Hulk fighting off Bucky’s henchmen, how Steve ran off to find Bucky, how Darcy couldn’t convince Steve and Bucky to stay. How she knew Bucky was somehow connected to the Winter Soldier.

Darcy babbled most of the story towards the end, failing to stop her throat tightening and she looked up at the ceiling and fanned her face a few times. She hated her embarrassingly obvious fear and tears threatening to spill over. She was a ball of anxiety and felt the room closing in at the thought of Steve and Bucky on the run.

Natasha suddenly grabbed her shoulder to anchor Darcy back to the present, searching her face with wide eyes and a furrowed brow.

“I met the Winter Soldier years ago.”

“Met?” Bruce chimed in, his own expression concerned.

“He greeted me in his own way,” Natasha muttered, and then reached for the zip of her jacket and pulled down.

She pulled the bottom of her grey t-shirt up and revealed a shiny patch on skin to the right of her navel, which looked like a nasty old scar from a particularly painful memory.

“Jesus Christ,” Bruce murmured, running a hand through his already messy hair.

“I said he was going to flay me alive in Russian,” Natasha continued, ignoring Bruce’s discomfort and rose an eyebrow at Darcy. “I consider myself lucky.”

“You hate him,” Darcy said. “The Winter Soldier.”

“Yes,” Natasha said.

She seemed frustrated and tense, like she knew all the harsher stories about Bucky’s career.

“Steve said he was under some kind of… hypnosis. Brainwashing.”

“Well, my friend in Kiev is working on relaying some information for me,” Natasha said as she did up her jacket again and blew a piece of hair out of her face. “We should have all the information we need in the next few days.”

“So we are keeping this to ourselves? Or will Fury know about this, too?” Bruce asked.

Natasha paused to think for a few moments.

“I have to consider what SHIELD may find useful in the capturing of such a person.”

Darcy thought of Bucky hunched over on the warehouse floor with his head in his hands.

“Steve won’t let you take him away.”

Natasha’s eyes shot to Darcy’s and she glared momentarily. “You’ve got no idea what this guy’s capable of, Darcy.”

Darcy felt hot fury engulf her so suddenly she thought of shaking Natasha for being so condescending. She hadn’t been there last night, she hadn’t seen the torturous guilt and shame in Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky was the same guy who stopped her from breaking her hand on that wall. He was Steve’s best friend. That had to mean something, even if it meant going against SHIELD. Not that such a thing was unusual for Darcy; she remembered the time her iPod was taken away by Coulson despite her heavy protests.

In the end, Natasha was a spy and had SHIELD’s best interests at heart always. Maybe Darcy was biased too, in her own way, but she felt protective of Bucky now.

She realised how insane that was, after everything he’d done, but she _loved_ Steve.

It scared her, a little. She loved Steve like a true friend and believed him and Bucky.

So she said it, and ignored every part of her that told her to shut up and stop being dramatic.

“I know what he’s capable of, but it was never him. I love Steve and would believe him and follow his lead no matter what. So please share what you find out with me.”

Natasha could only stare at her. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Bruce didn’t say anything, but looked away from them and stared at Darcy’s desk instead.

“But Darcy, you have to consider that maybe SHIELD is the only group of people capable of helping him if he’s been programmed to kill all those people,” Natasha said as she started to walk away towards the elevator.

She pressed a button and waited. She looked back at Darcy pointedly.

“He could have killed you.”

“You all could,” Darcy countered, crossing her arms.

Natasha didn’t reply to that and departed in silence. Darcy didn’t look at Bruce again until the elevator doors closed behind Natasha, leaving them alone once again by the desk.

Bruce didn’t look at her in the eye, instead he pushed past her to make his own way to the elevator.

“I’m going to head out.”

“What? Why?”

“I just feel… Fuck,” Bruce turned back and gave a cruel laugh, giving an elaborate shrug. “I am so stupid.”

Darcy looked him over, feeling her face grow hot. “What?”

“Steve, Darcy,” Bruce growled, and Darcy flinched. “ _Steve_.”

“It’s not like that,” Darcy felt herself say before she could stop the cliché from spilling out. But that was all she could think to say with the rising panic in her chest.

“I get it. You don’t have to – I get it,” Bruce said, though he definitely didn’t, and infuriatingly had no idea what was actually going on. “I can’t compete with that. I read too much into things.”

“No! Is that –” Darcy let the realisation sink in. “Do you think what happened was just… nothing?”

“Come on! There was no part of you that suspected I hadn’t gotten laid in several years?”

“I suspected you hadn’t dated anyone since Betty – “

Darcy felt herself blush at mentioning Bruce’s ex and she huffed out an uneasy laugh. “I didn’t do it because I felt sorry for you, Bruce. It wasn’t a _pity fuck_.”

Bruce looked seriously uncomfortable now and ran his fingers through his hair for the umpteenth time, sighing. He didn’t look like he believed her, much to Darcy’s annoyance.

“Seriously? You think you were just on my hit list, and I’m working on Steve now, is that it?”

Bruce shrugged again, and the elevator dinged and he made to step into it, but Darcy was quicker and blocked his way, pressing up against him like she did before in the street, but this time there was no-one around who could hear them, or see them.

“I want _you_ , Bruce,” she said, and nipped at his lips with her teeth, stealing him briefly. “I like _you_.”

Bruce froze, nostrils flaring as Darcy kissed him again, flicking her tongue against his mouth teasingly and he groaned.

He pushed her into the elevator and the doors shut behind them. Darcy knew that dark look in his eyes but didn’t expect him to do what happened next.

He turned and pressed the emergency stop button, before practically pouncing on her.

He crowded her into the corner, lips at her throat, one hand at the base of her neck and pinning her against the wall, and the other he shoved down the front of her pants and Darcy gasped, shuddering and already worked up just by his enthusiasm.

His fingers moved expertly, two inside her in seconds and crooked just precisely with his thumb rubbing her clit. Darcy whimpered, gasping as she felt her heart beat all over, all through her. Bruce was relentless with his onslaught – pushing and rubbing and pressing her into the hard metal of the wall.

“You want me like this? You want me like this?” Bruce hissed in her ear, and Darcy moaned as she knew she was embarrassingly wet now. She felt it on his hand, on her thighs. It only seemed to spur him on.

“You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Yes, oh – Oh, my God!” Darcy whimpered, and he shoved into her harder, faster.

Wherever this was coming from, she loved this side of Bruce. Maybe some twisted part of her enjoyed making him lose his grip a little and just act out.

She came hard – clenching around his fingers and rocking her hips off the wall as her toes curled in her shoes. She made weak little moans as she rode through the aftershocks, while Bruce planted kisses on her neck and cheek.

She caught the back of his head and pulled him down to kiss her properly on her neglected mouth, pushing her tongue past his lips and swallowing his moan once again.

They broke apart, and she was breathless but determined.

“Take me to bed,” she said, “To _your_ bed, Bruce.”

Bruce turned to elevator back on and pressed the button for his floor.

As he was opening the door to his apartment, Darcy was nudging him to get inside, pressing kisses on the back of his neck as she stood on tiptoes, and he chuckled.

The door shut behind them and Darcy breathed in the smell, the woodsy, sweet musky smell that was Bruce that lingered in the air.

He led them to the bedroom, flicking on a light.

“It’s still a mess –”

Darcy cut him off with another crushing kiss, dragging her hand down his chest and resting it on his belt. Bruce groaned – he was really quite vocal about his desire, his pleasure, which Darcy loved.

She undid his belt and fly, and sighed as she held his flushed, hard cock in her hand. Bruce shuddered, biting his lip. His eyes were black and huge as Darcy made her descent, stopping as she got to her knees on the floor in front of him.

Bruce’s hands hovered by his sides, shaking.

“Darcy, you don’t have to –”

Darcy didn’t hesitate and drew her tongue across his skin, right along the underside of his dick with her eyes bright and wicked.

Bruce gave a loud moan this time, and Darcy drew back, eyebrows raised.

“Are you okay?”

Bruce nodded fast, lip between his teeth again while his hands shook, still hovering by his sides helplessly.

“It’s just been a really, really –”

Darcy took him in her mouth until he hit the back of her throat, dragging her tongue along the underside again, her hand wrapped around his shaft twisting a little as her head went up and down.

“-long time!” Bruce managed to gasp, and his hands finally settled at his sides as fists, but he still couldn’t keep them still as Darcy kept going, faster and more enthusiastically, her head bobbing.

Her spit was making everything sound slippery and filthy. She felt clumsy but confident, sucking him harder and he moaned again.

Darcy opened her eyes and looked up at him, pointedly taking his hands and putting them on the back of her head, guiding him to guide her for his pleasure.

Bruce’s hands were on her shoulders in seconds, and a moment later Darcy was being pulled up to her feet again.

“I wasn’t going to last long,” he admitted, breathing heavily and keeping her at arm’s length while he willed himself to calm.

He looked right at her chest and said, “Take off your shirt.”

Without a word, Darcy pulled off her t-shirt, and threw it aside. She felt the thrill of pleasing him deep inside her between her legs.

She had to admit there were times when her body must be attractive to other people. Even as her emaciated version of herself, she had a large chest. Nowadays her bras were filled to the brim and she was practically spilling out of the one she was wearing now; it was her purple satin one that nearly pushed her boobs up to her chin.

“Bra, too.”

Darcy unhooked it from the back and tossed the bra, too. Without prompting, she started to pull off her pants and underwear, too. All the while Bruce watched in silence with his dick in his hand, though he wasn’t stroking himself.

“Okay?” she asked again, as she sat on the bed and crossed her leg over her knee and leaned back so her chest was in full view.

Bruce nodded vaguely, looking like he was trying not to focus too much on her nakedness and just looked her in the eye instead, and took off his own clothes.

His hands were shaking but he managed to strip completely and stood apart from her still, visibly agitated.

Darcy flew to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and enjoying the feeling of their skin on each other. He was so warm. She was sure this winter she’d never need the extra blankets if she slept beside him.

“We don’t have to go all the way, again,” she whispered as she rubbed her face on his stubble, and Bruce slipped his arms around her bare waist, one of his hands resting on her ass and drawing her closer to him. He cock was against her stomach and leaking, looking dark and almost painful.

“I want to,” Bruce said. “But I’m worried if I start, I’ll be too…”

“Too rough?” Darcy finished, searching his face, and he blushed again.

“Something like that,” he said, and he looked away and sighed. “I think it might be the other guy but then I remember I’m _me_ , and I still think about doing those things to you when I’m not _him_. Actually, when I’m him I don’t think about sex at all.”

“Hold on. What things do you think about doing to me? How long has that been going on?”

Bruce kissed her and his hand slid down her ass to cup it, and Darcy gave a surprised giggle in return as she drew her mouth away.

“I was doing so much meditating when I moved here. Kept jerking off like a teenager,” Bruce muttered, sounding embarrassed. “It’s disgusting.”

“You just needed to make up for lost time. You need to let go, Bruce.”

He kept staring at her, looking like he wanted to say a million things but he wasn’t sure where to start. Instead, he kissed her again, greedy and hard, and finally pushed her onto the bed and started touching her all over.

Her kissed down her chest and nipped at the swell of her right breast and pawed at her left. Her nipples were already furled in anticipation before he took one in his mouth, rubbing and teasing the other. Darcy moaned, her hips rolling as the coil between her legs grew tighter.

They could have been doing this for months. She was so stupid. She should have told him how she felt the second she met him. But she was right; they’d just have to make up for it now. Darcy couldn’t remember the last time she had sex twice in a day. Thinking about him touching himself over her made her excited all the more, and she snaked a hand between them and caught his cock in her little hand and stroked.

“Mmm, fuck,” Bruce groaned, and he was pressing into her, sweat gathering between them.

She lined them up so he was brushing against her wet lips and about to slide home, but he stopped her from pulling him in.

“What?” she snapped, frustrated now. She was aching for him. He really couldn’t tease her like this. She was so worked up. She’d have to kill him.

Bruce flipped her over with ease so she was on her stomach now, and she gave another surprised giggle. She felt slightly embarrassed because it was so obvious now he wanted her another way, not like before.

He stroked her back, pulling them both up so they were on their knees on the bed, Darcy bent over with her ass up in the air. She looked back at him and smiled.

“Let go,” she said, encouraging him.

Though she knew what awaited them, she still gave a gasp and moaned when he pushed inside her the first time, and clenched around him. He was going so deep and hard she could hardly hold on, and with every thrust she became louder, until she was smothering her moans with the blankets, her hands fists full of sheets and trying to find purchase.

“Fuck, Bruce. Bruce-Bruce-Bruce –”

She was babbling now, and Bruce laughed breathlessly. He quickly found her clit, pressing and rubbing it and not easing up on his pounding into her.

Darcy came with a scream this time, toes curling and her whole body shuddering as she gulped the air, and once she settled she pulled away from him, turning around to shove him back onto the bed before she straddled his hips and sank onto him.

She wanted revenge, but it turned out Bruce still wasn’t letting up any time soon, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady as he fucked up into her hard. Darcy was making the same keening sounds as that afternoon which meant she was completely out of control with the feeling of him inside her and around her.

She kissed him again, groaning against his mouth as she came again, and Bruce kept still this time while she rode it out. He started up again, and in three short, hard thrusts he came undone, spilling inside her while he shook with the force of it all.

They were a panting, sweating mess of skin and hair, limbs tangled and loose. Darcy felt spent and used in every good way imaginable.

 

* * *

  
  
They carried on like this in between their work days, and Darcy felt drunk whenever she was with him, and without him, she couldn’t deny the ache in her chest and the missing piece of her. He wrapped himself around her heart with a tight fist, green or not, and Darcy couldn’t stop thinking about him.

This was what all the songs were about. She felt scared, lost and afraid when she was alone, and with him, she constantly felt as though their time together was in a separate world of their own. Fuck that, her heart wasn’t wrapped in his fist, it was in his mouth and he could crush it at any second.

Work was the same, or as normal as it could be considering the Jacobi assassination, with Tony making his weeks filled mostly with press conferences and interviews. Darcy mostly tagged along and waited in the shadows while Tony spun everything precisely with his copious snark when the time was right. He felt immense guilt for the attack occurring at a party hosted by him, but he wasn’t going to only do some kind of apology tour while people pressed him about the whereabouts of the assassin who was still on the loose.

There were two whole months of silence before Bucky showed up in Albuquerque of all places, before he was chained up and brought back.

Darcy heard about it at her desk, when JARVIS pushed an alert through the loud speakers about their Captain America being found fighting with Bucky again in a crowded street.

Darcy knew then that someone must have turned Bucky into the Winter Soldier again and that Steve wasn’t able to stop it from happening, no matter how much he tried. She imagined him pleading with Bucky to stop throwing punches, to put down his knife, his pistol.

The image of Bucky out cold in a cage came to her mind as she went to find Tony on his floor.

“Tony, we have to get to Washington,” she said instead of greeting him like usual.

He had a grease rag in his hands and was putting away whatever he was working on so that he could leave. Soon he’d be heading to his closet for a suit and some sunglasses for his private ride away.

“Absolutely not. You are staying here, kiddo.”

“What?! Why not?” she demanded, blocking his path and putting her hands on her hips.

They’d had a lot of arguments like these lately. Honestly, Darcy had been picking fights with whoever spoke to her like a child those days and Tony was the guiltiest one of all.

“You know why not,” he retorted, eyebrow hiked up. “Bruce will kill me.”

Darcy made an annoyed whine. “Well, I’ll kill _you_ if you don’t take me there right now. And I don’t care if this a fireable offense, I’m seeing Steve.”

Tony just shook his head. “You’ve got no clue. Fury said he broke an agent’s neck in front of a goddamn Starbucks.”

“Then bring me and Bruce. He can use the other guy if I require some kind of protection, right?”

Tony faltered, considering. “Alright.”

On their way to the SHIELD facility in D.C. where Bucky was being held, Darcy went over ever mental note she made of the file Natasha managed to smuggle from Kiev about the Winter Soldier.

Bucky must have been triggered by a Hydra agent who knew the specific trigger words found in the Hydra books scattered amongst the organisation. Someone must have waited out until Bucky and Steve were out and about so Bucky could hear everything.

The flight was spent mostly silent, Bruce occasionally giving her hand a squeeze and nodding at Tony. Bruce was protective, but he didn’t expect they’d be in any great danger. But Darcy knew he was going through a lot of anxiety to be so immersed in SHIELD again after everything he’d been through, so she was aware he was psyching himself up.

“It’s going to be fine,” she whispered, and kissed his cheek.

“Yeah,” Bruce said, not sounding convinced.

He understood the importance of resolution. Darcy in her own selfish way needed this to be settled finally. She needed to see everything was put in place. Bucky needed someone else, not just Steve and Sam Wilson, on his side. It said more about Darcy than anything else. She had a thing for an underdog.

Sam was already there when they arrived, and gave Darcy a nod and a small smile.

“Hello, again,” he said, “Can’t say it’s the best circumstances. Again.”

“No,” Darcy murmured, and they were walking towards the basement floor where Steve and Bucky were supposed to be.

Darcy was leading the way with Sam, keeping up with his long strides with the loud taps of her boots on the concrete floors.

“You’re in for a shock,” Sam added, giving Darcy a sidewards glance. “Not just about Bucky.”

Darcy felt her heart in her throat. “What is it?”

“It’s okay. Nothing too drastic.”

They rounded a corner and they almost walked straight into Steve, who caught her by the arm and Darcy just gaped at him.

“You have a beard,” she said.

He did. It was quite bushy, too. Darcy could only stare at him while everyone else behind her came to a stop.

Tony let out a howl of laughter. “You look like a lumberjack!”

“Thanks, Tony,” Steve muttered, starting to go red. “I got caught up with looking after Bucky. Personal grooming was kinda the last thing on my list.”

“Wow.”

Darcy shot Tony a look and he covered his mouth with a hand.

“Where’s Bucky?”

Steve’s eyes shot back to Darcy and he frowned. “He’s not good, Darcy.”

“I need to see him.”

“I still don’t understand why this one is so determined to push her way into every affair concerning Bucky Barnes,” came the familiar voice of Nick Fury, who was exiting the same room Steve came out of a minute before.

Darcy felt that same hook of anger pull at her insides.

“My name is Darcy Lewis.”

“Oh, I’m well aware! The same damn Darcy Lewis who met Bucky Barnes on New Year’s and didn’t breathe a word to SHIELD about any location he might have headed to!”

Fury stared her down with his one fierce eye. Steve turned to him.

“She didn’t have any idea where we were.”

“She helped us, sir,” Sam added, and Darcy wanted to high-five him.

“Still doesn’t make any sense why she’s here now,” Fury spat. “Howling Commando fangirls need not apply for visits.”

Darcy felt her face flush, and Bruce was the one to pipe up this time.

“Director, she just wanted to set the record straight.”

Everyone turned to look at Bruce now, and he made a self-conscious clearing of his throat.

“You know what?” Fury snapped. “Fine. Go in there and then get the hell back to New York.”

Darcy watched as he slapped his pass on the black box beside the locked door and opened it for her, and she jogged ahead before someone could stop her.

She didn’t want people to think about why she cared so much. It felt inexplicable.

The room inside was a mixture of grey and white tiles, and a large enclosure in the middle was barricaded by thick glass and metal plates. Darcy imagined this was same kind of box to keep in the Hulk.

Her eyes spun to the figure on the far side of the enclosure who was half slumped on the floor, with one arm above their head and their hair shielding their face from her gaze.

“Bucky,” she breathed.

He looked like pain, like he was just purely ache and tiredness. He was tired of the world. He was sore from everything bearing down on him.

Darcy scrambled at the glass, pounding in desperation.

“Bucky!”

She could see his arm was restrained now, in some kind of massive metal vice will the rest of his body lay limp on the floor.

He stirred, groaning. She could still hear him through the glass. It meant he could hear her.

“Bucky, it’s Darcy. It’s that annoying girl who tried to fix your ear!”

Bucky made a groggy kind of chuckle. “You’re not that annoying.”

“Bucky, please look at me.”  
  
“Why?”

Because you remind me of me at my worst, she wanted to say. You’re me when all I wanted to do was die.

When she didn’t answer him, Bucky tossed his head in such a way that the hair fell aside for his eyes to been seen and he looked for her, and locked into her watery stare.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

That was all it took for Darcy to race off again, speeding back to the others outside and straight up to Fury.

“You bastard! How could you put him in there like that?!” she screamed, and everyone was staring now.

Fury’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s… it’s inhumane!”

Darcy was breathing heavily and didn’t know what she was going to do next. She was definitely going to be kicked out now, but not without a fight.

“We haven’t got any idea how badly he’s affected by the triggers. He could still become violent. I couldn’t just have him walking around!” Fury roared.

“Get him out of there this second!” Darcy retorted, pointing at the door behind her. “Right this fucking second!”

“Darcy,” came Tony’s warning, but she wasn’t having it.

“Miss Lewis, I’m going to have to ask you to leave SHIELD immediately,” Fury hissed, glowering at her.

Bruce pushed his way to be by Darcy’s side and grabbed her hand.

“You can make her leave but you can’t make me,” he said, puffing his chest out a little.

Darcy suddenly felt so touched by his gesture because it meant she was more important to him than his own anxieties. She was more than the pain it took to pull out the Hulk if necessary.

Fury shot Steve a glare. “Captain.”

He was asking him to control his team, but Steve just stared blankly at him.

“No.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, this was a real mess but HI HOW ARE YOU because I know it's been a little while! I had some writer's block but I'm doing well again writing-wise. Thank you to everyone for the views, the kudos and comments. It's good to know people are actually reading this. Was the smut okay? Also I'm hoping to expand on the friendship between Bucky and Darcy a lot more, and since this is my first time writing Bucky I want to know how I'm doing. XXX OOO
> 
> P.S. Please excuse any typos/errors you may find. I proof my own work and sometimes they slip through but I usually find them myself eventually and fix them.


	11. xi.

1998 by Chet Faker featuring Banks

 

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

 

**xi.**

 

_**NOW.** _

 

 

 

Patrick from the New York Times was maybe 5’7” at the most. He may have been wearing lifts. Not that Darcy judged him for it – Tony was his height and often wore shoes to give him a boost. What most people didn’t know was that he wore orthotics because a podiatrist eight years ago told him he wasn’t working properly.

There was a lot of incredulity from Tony but he folded once Pepper bought them for him.

These were the kind of details Darcy knew about Tony Stark simply because she was a good personal assistant and paid enough attention.

Patrick knocked on her door at 11 am, just as they agreed. Darcy asked the concierge to grant Patrick access to her room, but only once.

Darcy had to be very specific about how she was about to do all this. Every detail was crucial. She was meticulous in her presentation, of herself and of the room, and opened the door exactly after two of Patrick’s knocks.

“Mrs. Banner,” he greeted.

He was a perfectly ordinary-looking guy. Mid- to late thirties, dark hair and dark eyes. He was probably a mixture of Irish-Italian, with a name like Patrick Rossi. From what Darcy had read about him, he wasn’t a boastful type of writer with a Twitter feed full of personal witticisms and pretentious jokes. He was the type of man Darcy was sure her father Laurence would have been fine with having for a son-in-law.

She never knew what he thought of Bruce.

“Mr. Rossi.”

Her voice sounded unlike her; crisp and purposeful. She only gave a vague idea of a smile.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

Darcy made the point of furrowing her brows and looking away from his gaze.

“Yes, this has been a hard week. I don’t suppose you’ve seen what the President has been saying about all this?”

Patrick looked perplexed, somewhat surprised at her choice of words.

“He did always prefer Tony’s methods over Steve Rogers’.”

Patrick didn’t say anything and looked awkward.

“Come in.”

Darcy turned, leading Patrick over to the living room. This was the Presidential suite of this particular hotel Darcy was sure Patrick would disclose to his viewers. The extravagance of it. But that was Darcy’s point. No-one was going to listen to her if she decided to be interviewed in a place she could actually afford.

“I’m assuming Pepper Potts is who I should be thanking for your visit?”

Darcy sat on the chaise longue by the window and lit a cigarette from the packet on the coffee table. She took a drag as Patrick sat opposite her and touched his tie like a nervous habit.

“She and Tony Stark contacted me. People have been trying to contact anyone they can find from the Avengers about the Accords and Captain America’s death –”

He stumbled on his words as he realised Darcy didn’t want to hear it, she was just making conversation.

“My apologies. I realise it’s a sensitive topic. You were close to the group, and Captain America.”

“I still am,” Darcy said airily, tapping her cigarette into the crystal dish on the table. “I married an Avenger.”

“What was that like? Being married to an Avenger?”

Darcy watched as he got out a notepad, pens, and a small silver electronic voice recorder.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Darcy tossed her hair and watched Patrick date his notepaper and start scribbling.

“I can assume a lot of what I’m about to say will be redacted. For security reasons.”

Patrick stopped writing and looked up at her. “Yes.”

“For privacy reasons.”

“Yes.”

She gave a knowing little bitter laugh that was all hers and not some character’s she was wearing now. Then she rolled her eyes.

This was all Tony, like she expected it would be. No matter what she said, he was still going to be able to tell his version of the truth.

Patrick asked all the usual questions like where she grew up (Rochester), and what was that like (it was something to be grateful for), and whether she had siblings (no), and whether she planned to meet the Avengers like the way she had.  
  
“No,” Darcy said, mashing out her cigarette before lighting another. “I was the only person to apply for the internship I got. I didn’t have a clue about what theories they were exploring.”

“So why apply?”

“I needed six credits and I wanted to get out of the state. I didn’t want to live at home anymore.”

“What did your parents think?”

“They weren’t happy. I was in hospital.”

Darcy licked her lips and pursed them momentarily. She sighed and shrugged. This was the first time she told anyone who wasn’t a friend or a health care professional about her condition. Before Patrick could ask, Darcy soldiered on.  
  
“I had an eating disorder. But that’s like, a minor footnote at this point, wouldn’t you think?”

Patrick just frowned and blinked a few times at her words.

“Do you _know_ about my miscarriage?” Darcy suddenly asked, taking a long drag from her cigarette as she stared Patrick down.

Patrick blinked again. “Mrs. Banner –”

“I’m just wondering if there’s anything you _don’t_ know, or if there’s anything Tony _hasn’t_ told you.”

“Mrs. Banner, I wanted to interview you about your life with the Avengers. I don’t have to include any traumas you’d rather –”

“I haven’t seen my husband in nearly two years. He left the Avengers because of me.”

“With all due respect, Mrs. Banner, I don’t think that’s true.”

He gave an annoying little smile men often gave women they felt they needed to condescend to. It was the kind of smile that on any other day, Darcy would reward with a middle finger and a “fuck you”.

Instead, she only watched as the smoke rose from her cigarette towards the open window. She paid significantly more for a smoker’s room but it wasn’t on her card, it was on Pepper’s.

She told Patrick everything. There was only one time when she thought he might actually include what she said in his finished article.

“Tony Stark fired you? He said you left.”

“He fired me when he found out I knew who murdered his parents in 1991.”

“Who?”

“The best friend of the same man no-one can stand.”

Patrick’s pen stopped. “The Winter Soldier? You mean Captain America’s friend, the Soviet assassin?”

“Imagine it. You’re a little boy trying to go to war for your country and then get turned into the perfect American specimen.”

Darcy looked out the window behind her, and imagined a fake state funeral she knew Steve really did deserve parading down the streets of Manhattan. There would be horses, soldiers and crying people in black veils. She’d be one of the people walking up front.

The reality was the typically busy streets with cars stacked on top of each other, bicycles weaving and people yelling for taxis and crossing roads in hoards.

“And there’s only one of you, so it’s your job to be Captain. Captain America.”

She turned back to Patrick and sighed.

“And then you fight the Germans. But your best friend is thrown from a train and you die, too. Or seem to die. A part of you dies. Then you wake up in the future with everyone you’ve ever known dead or dying around you. Then you find your best friend again. And you think you can save him, but he sort of died too, way back.”

Darcy shrugs.

“And then you have to keep saving him and saving people from him. Everybody wants the only person you love who’s still connected to your past to die in a prison cell far away.”

Darcy smoked in silence for a full minute before Patrick spoke again.  
  
“Mrs. Banner…”  
  
“He’ll never let you publish that,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. “But it’s the truth.”

 

* * *

 

 

Patrick left after nearly three hours of talking. The moment the door shut behind him, Darcy kicked off her heels, pulled off her suit jacket and threw it aside.

She went to the hiding places from her earlier plan – the lamps, under the coffee table, the light fixture above their heads in the living room.

Every bit of audio she gathered she then placed in a file and then compressed it.

She started a new email.

 

_Buzzfeed_

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_Here is the real interview. To be released after the censored version is published in two days._

_Darcy Banner._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was short but the next chapter should be a real mother due in the new year. If you'd like to listen to the full Desperado playlist you can [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170838034/playlist/0YtoA0pIK4AOJmPIM4ppcm) on Spotify.


	12. xii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I said no more chapters until 2018 but consider this a surprise gift of sorts. There is smut, and it's not the most concise chapter.

Resolution by Matt Corby

 

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

 

 

**xii.**

 

_**THEN.** _

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
Darcy doesn’t know how she’s feeling those days. All she knew was that she was damn tired of everything. She hadn’t been this consistently tired since finals at college, and she wasn’t eating then.

She spent too much time seeing Bucky, she knew that. It meant she was away in Washington at least three times a week, mostly with Steve in tow, sitting in a sullen kind of silence whenever they borrowed Tony’s jet.

Steve was good at not talking about how he was, especially when they first went together, just the two of them, a few days after Darcy was kicked out of SHIELD because she screamed at Fury.  
  
Steve watched the clouds go by as they made their ascent, and Darcy leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her head propped up by one hand.  
  
They didn’t talk a lot.

Steve opened doors for her. Darcy would nod a silent thankyou back at him, keeping close as they walked along the long corridors of SHIELD to the facility Bucky was still being kept in.  
  
He got a cot, some books on a table with a chair, a really nice pillow (which Darcy specifically fought for), and a separate little room for a shower and toilet.  
  
It wasn’t an especially dignified living situation, but Darcy could see how this was a lot better than the original setup.

Bucky also wasn’t handcuffed anymore.

The second they were let into Bucky’s quarters, Steve’s whole face lit up. It was like watching time being turned back. He became a boy again.  
  
“Buck,” he said, giving his best friend a fierce hug. “Hey.”  
  
“Hey,” Bucky echoed, staring at Darcy over Steve’s shoulder. “ _She’s_ here, too.”

 _She has a name_ , Darcy wanted to say, but let it go.

Darcy and Bucky sat at the table together while Steve leaned against the wall watching them. Darcy flipped open a folder she brought and uncapped her pen.  
  
“SHIELD said I could come here as long as I made myself useful.”  
  
“Well, I’m grateful you came, Darcy,” Bucky said, and for the first time he reached out to touch her hand, making Darcy pause.  
  
There was a twinkle in his eye that gave her the impression he was laying the charm on thick. She saw Steve in the corner of her eye chuckle softly and shake his head.

Apparently this wasn’t surprising behaviour.  
  
“Okay, well –”  
  
Darcy moved her hand away so she could write on her note paper.  
  
“We have blanks to fill.”  
  
“Natasha could only give us so much,” Steve added.  
  
Bucky stiffened, suddenly serious again and curling in on himself like he wanted to hide. He sighed.

“I already told the doctors, I can’t remember.”  
  
“Maybe I can help,” Darcy said softly, trying to look him in the eye and failing to succeed.

He kept looking at Steve with a kind of silent pleading.

“Punk, this ain’t fair.”

“I know it ain’t.”

Bucky finally looked back at her, studying her face. “Sweetheart.”

“Don’t sweetheart me,” she countered.

She wrote several dates on the paper, all spanning decades apart. She tapped the paper to indicate the first date, 1969.

Bucky sighed. “Eddison. Three guys. I strangled them.”

Darcy faltered, her pen slipping. “Right.”  
  
“You asked.”  
  
“Yeah, I did.”  
  
Darcy wrote down his words verbatim. They did this four more times, all of the different dates, all the different ways he killed his targets in vague yet gory details.

The final one, Bucky opened his mouth but didn’t speak for nearly a whole minute. His eyes were glued to her, the same pained expression on his face.  
  
“Kiev. A man. A…woman. Shot him. Decapitated her.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve breathed from his spot by the wall. “Bucky.”  
  
“I was out of bullets,” Bucky managed to add, his voice rough with emotion. “Uh, it was messy.”  
  
Darcy wrote it down anyway.

“Sometimes I can smell the blood.”  
  
The wrapped up things later than expected. They were allowed to stay overnight. Darcy was too tired to argue, too tired to get back on the jet just yet.  
  


* * *

 

  
The second she and Steve were alone, as he followed her to her dorm, he sucked in a strangled breath and started to shake, and then doubled over in tears, his face buried in Darcy’s hair. All she could do was hold him, and try her hardest not to cry, too – but it came at her like a knife in the gut because the force of Steve’s sobs were causing her to shake along with him.

When Steve finally re-emerged, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks blotchy, he gave her an apologetic stroke of her cheek.

“Sorry, I got your shirt all wet.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Darcy squeaked, giving her face big swipes with her hands. “Steve, it’s going to be okay.”  
  
They didn’t know that, but it was all Darcy could think of to say.

Steve sat on her bed and sniffled. “I don’t want to alone right now.”  
  
“Me neither.”  
  
The truth was, she wished Bruce was there so she could fuck these feelings away. Maybe in between sobs she’d manage to become distracted and forget Bucky for a few blissful seconds. She also knew that was probably futile.  
  
“Stay here,” she added. “We can watch a movie.”  
  
“Okay,” Steve mumbled. His voice sounded so small.  
  
They watched The Wizard of Oz. Darcy did the bad thing and didn’t eat. She didn’t feel like looking after herself. She made sure Steve got everything he needed instead, and he was too distracted to notice her only picking at a potato chip that she eventually set aside.  
  


* * *

 

The weeks began to melt into one another. Steve and Darcy visited Bucky, and sometimes it wasn’t so traumatic, but mostly it was painful and Darcy kept moping around the Tower whenever they returned to New York, listening to too much Jeff Buckley at night and not paying too much attention to work.

Things were becoming frayed at the edges. Steve was quicker to snap at Tony, and Tony resented the companionship Steve and Darcy had together.

They were thankful for his private jet, but he still felt ignored. Bruce was better at pretending he was fine with the arrangement, until Darcy fainted at work.

“Noooooope, I’m done. Nope,” he snapped, and scooped her up from the floor by her desk, as Darcy came to.

“Bruce! Put me down!”  
  
He carried her to the elevator and awkwardly pushed the button with his elbow.

“You’re going to rest.”  
  
“I’m fine! Put me –”

Darcy struggled, but Bruce kept her steady with a strength she had no idea he possessed.

“—down! I can stand.”  
  
“Darcy, please listen to me.”  
  
He was looking down into her eyes, the light of the elevator making his silver-brown hair glow from above.

“You’re too nice. You need to stop helping everyone else so much and help yourself.”  
  
“Fucking – excuse me?! Who was the one who lived in Calcutta during a cholera outbreak?”

He finally set her on her two feet, but kept a grip on her arm. “That’s different.”  
  
“How is that _any_ different?” Darcy snapped, just as the doors opened to reveal Bruce’s floor.

Darcy stopped mid-step, realising where they were.

“You don’t have any food in your refrigerator,” Bruce answered her silent question, eyebrows hiking. “You can’t live off pickles.”

Darcy followed him with reluctance. She didn’t want to fight so she didn’t argue anymore.

Bruce set her down on the couch and pulled up their shared Netflix queue. Ten minutes later, he brought her a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of orange juice.

She snuggled up to him, his arm around her as she almost on his lap. The TV played forgotten in the background as she planted open-mouthed kisses on his neck, her nails scraping his chest that peaked out from underneath his shirt.

“Just promise me you’ll look after yourself,” Bruce muttered, sounding like he was close to losing the tight grip of his restraint from touching her back. “ _Please_.”

Darcy moved her head back up and gave him a short kiss without closing her eyes.

“Okay. I promise.”

Bruce was suddenly on her, pressing her into the couch, his mouth slanting over hers. He groaned as she did his favourite thing – she grazed her teeth on his bottom lip with her fingers in his hair, pulling him down harder to meet her.  
  
He moved his kisses down to her neck, before shoving her shirt up to expose her stomach, which he peppered again with his lips, and Darcy knew what was going to happen next.

She lifted her hips up as he pulled off her underwear. Next, he threw her legs over his shoulders before pressing a kiss to her mound, making Darcy jump a little. Just his hot breath between her legs was making her mouth water and pussy clench with anticipation.

It was like he was trying to kiss her down there like he did with her mouth – not really focusing on her clit but just licking her inner lips and occasionally sucking one a little, making Darcy gasp. Darcy couldn’t stop her hips rolling once his tongue was inside her.

“Fuck,” she hissed, her chest heaving. She was close even after a few seconds. It shouldn’t be this easy. It was crazy to her how good Bruce was with his mouth.

“Are you gonna come?”

Darcy knew if she’d look at him now she’d give a loud, embarrassing whimper of an answer back, but she couldn’t help herself and looked down at him, and the site of him was a consuming portrait of tenderness she couldn’t handle.

She wasn’t prepared for this. His eyes were glowing, most of his face obscured by her skirt shucked up around her hips.

“Please, Bruce. I wanna come so bad. Please, please…”

Bruce obliged, pushing two fingers inside her with ease. He leant over and sucked on her clit, making her whole body feel like she was burning up with the sensation. She gasped again just before she came, her whole body shuddering.

Bruce pressed lazy kisses on her thigh, hugging it to him and looked up at her. He gave a sheepish smile as he stroked her leg.

“Come here,” Darcy said, motioning for him to join her further up the couch.

As Bruce sat up, Darcy’s fingers were on his fly in a flash, unfastening him and kissing him hard.

Bruce moaned the second her hand ran over the bulge of him inside his slacks, cupping him and rubbing while Bruce dominated her mouth with his tongue.

“I’m gonna come too fast if you keep doing that,” he warned between kisses, and Darcy gave a giggle. “Bad girl.”

Darcy just about purred at that, freeing his cock from his boxer briefs by pushing them down. Her hand settled on him again, stroking lightly until Bruce’s hand wrapped around her wrist to steady her.

“Want to fuck you,” he muttered through gritted teeth. It was amazing how he could be reduced to so few words when Darcy got him in the right mood.

“Oh, really?” Darcy gave a cheeky quirk of her lips. “So fuck me.”  
  
Bruce shoved her onto her back, and managed to wrestle out of his pants and pull off his own underwear. He pulled off his shirt without bothering to unbutton it completely, and settled over her again, pulling her hips toward him.

“Gonna – fucking –”

He tugged a leg up so her foot was by his head, and lined himself up. He shoved inside her and made a choked kind of sound as he bottomed out.

“Gonna make a mess of you,” he growled, pulling out slightly to shove back into her, hard.

Darcy’s revelled in the delicious snap of his hips. “ _Yes_.”

It was just the right side of hurt. She felt stretched but grew used to the angle as Bruce kissed her again, all tongue and teeth and desperate.

Darcy thought maybe his moaning was enough to send her over the edge until he started talking again.

“Drive me crazy,” he muttered, starting to speed up the more Darcy whined. “I want you all the time.”

“You have me,” she breathed, and Bruce faltered, his hips losing their rhythm.

His eyes were shining in the afternoon sun as he gazed down at her, and then he bent down to kiss her left tit, making a little love bite bloom on her pale skin by her areola.

Darcy thought maybe it was a fluke - his face was just a reflection of the overwhelming sensations, but his words were only tender now. She couldn’t deny the look on his face.

“Come for me again, Darcy,” he whispered, and Darcy felt his hand go between them and pressing onto her clit, and her breath hitched again.

He was slamming into her with the same vigour as before, all the more heightened as he kissed her softly, achingly gentle.

“Come for me, please. Please.”

“Oh, fuck!”

Darcy came on a sob, knowing the mess she had already made in anticipation all the worse now.

Bruce didn’t hesitate and rearranged her legs so they wrapped around his waist as he was practically fucking her into the couch, the springs creaking in time with his moans that grew louder.

Darcy moaned in his ear and it set him off – it almost felt like he could crush her but he gave a stifled whimper into Darcy’s hair as he pulled her flush to his hip and shook with his own orgasm.

Bruce looked exhausted but satisfied when he moved back a little to look Darcy in the eye again, still inside her. They both groaned as he pulled out, pressing a kiss to Darcy’s sweaty forehead.

“Shower,” Bruce said, offering Darcy a hand.

She had trouble walking a little and had even more trouble staying upright as Bruce went down on her again under the water, kneeling below her. He gripped her ass to stop her from tipping over. He kept looking over at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

They climbed into his bed, naked and wrapped in each other. It took only a couple minutes of kissing before Bruce nuzzled into her shoulder, his thumb rubbing her nipple and squeezing her tit.

“Again?” Darcy chuckled, and Bruce nodded, a little bashful. “What’s got into you?”

Bruce’s refractory period felt like it was a little shorter than most people. He thought it was maybe because it was the Other Guy, but they both agreed the Hulk was most likely asexual. Bruce admitted he was like this before the gamma radiation.

“I’m insatiable,” Bruce whispered in her ear. “Come here.”

They lay on their sides as Bruce pressed into her from behind, and Darcy still felt a little worn out from before so she guided Bruce to a comfortable speed, her hand on his hip behind her, the other hand wrapped around his and pressed to her heart.

He pulled her face back and kissed her hard, moaning as her tongue ran across his teeth out of clumsiness, and not so much passion, but it gave the desired effect.

Darcy didn’t come but she didn’t mind – she just enjoyed the sounds Bruce made, and even felt the throb of him inside her as he came hard and suddenly.

He slipped out of her and kissed her bare shoulders, sighing contentedly.

Darcy got up to pee and check the time. The afternoon seemed to get away from them but it wasn’t like JARVIS was asking after them on Tony’s behalf.

Bruce watched her as she returned, one elbow propping up his head. She got into bed and mirrored him, smiling.

“I’ve got something to tell you,” said Bruce.

Darcy tilted her head. “What is it?”

“I love you.”

Darcy’s smile faltered, and she blinked at him. She immediately felt her heart beat faster, and she moved closer to him, stroking his hair.

“You _love_ me?”

“I think I always have,” he said, and kissed her wrist lightly.

They stared at one another in silence for a while before either of them spoke. Darcy didn’t know what to say, except that she loved him back. She knew that without a doubt.

“I know it’s probably not the best timing,” Bruce muttered. “Post-sex, I mean. But I didn’t want to wait.”

He watched her as she huffed a breath, a disbelieving kind of sigh and she felt a smile creep up again despite her tears. Or because of them.

“I love you too, Bruce. God, I love you so much.”

There was a skip in Bruce’s step for days to come, barely able to contain his desire most hours of the day. Sometimes they snuck away to find somewhere to fuck only to be interrupted by JARVIS. It wouldn’t stop Bruce from giving her suggestive looks whenever possible.

 

* * *

 

  
After several months of commuting to Washington and back, Darcy finally felt things were falling into place. Then two things blew the illusion of routine completely apart.

The first was someone breaking Bucky out of SHIELD once they’d managed to brainwash them. They were a Hydra-sympathiser who’d managed to nestle into SHIELD without detection for nearly eight years before triggering Bucky and escaping with him.

Apparently Hydra wanted what was theirs back, but the agent who freed him didn’t quite work the logistics through.

There was a kind of Mexican stand-off between Bucky and some loyal SHIELD operatives just outside the SHIELD headquarters. Bucky couldn’t get to a helicopter while agents covered him. The agent that turned him was left dead somewhere in between all this, and Darcy never heard exactly who killed the traitor.

This happened of course when Darcy and Steve weren’t there, and Darcy felt guilty as hell about it even though she knew there was nothing she could do to stop Bucky.

Tony, Steve, Natasha, Clint and Bruce were all off like a shot, leaving Darcy alone in the Tower, the guilt eating away at her as each hour crawled by.

She felt like she’d pushed Bucky too hard. Maybe they should have stopped asking so many disturbing questions. Maybe it was easier to probe his mind because he was in a more vulnerable state due to stress she’d caused.

She thought of his smile and how quickly it could fade and was overpowered by her own sobs.

The second thing that happened was that her father died.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I'm that bitch with terrible cliffhangers. But I'll be back sooner than you think! Thanks for reading. <3


	13. xiii.

 

Sorry Not Sorry by Demi Lovato

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

 

 

**xiii.**

 

 

 

_**NOW.** _

 

 

 

 

 

Bruce was always so good at making Darcy feel without even touching her at all.

A look would come across his face and he’d looked weary, even frightened, at what he felt for her. He was scared of her the same way he was scared of the Other Guy because they both could be so fierce and so reckless.

Darcy’s chest would swell fit to bursting and then she’d climb on top of him and suck his dick like she was born to do only that, forever. He’d growl and grab at her hair, shoving down her throat until she gagged, until tears fell from her eyes. He’d pull away, and she’d be gasping, long strings of spit coming from her mouth and off his cock.

She didn’t know why she liked it better when it hurt. Maybe she hated herself. Maybe she thought gentle caresses weren’t enough, as nice as they were.

She was a bad influence on Bruce, always. She entertained his basest desires, because she loved to please him. It was how she wanted it, to be handled that way.

Darcy thought of her husband now, wherever he was, as she lay in the hotel bed for the third day in a row.

All she’d done since the interview was email Buzzfeed, throw the tiny microphones down the toilet, and drink like a fish.

She was lucky the toilet hadn’t clogged. She couldn’t imagine trying to explain any of that.

She didn’t eat. Eating meant thinking too much and she couldn’t be bothered trying any more. Everything had just become too exhausting, including fuelling herself with anything other than Jack Daniels and cigarettes.

She lit yet another Marlboro Red and turned on the TV, switching through the breakfast talk shows.

There wasn’t anything going on.

She checked her emails.

Nothing.

She checked Twitter.

Also nothing.

Today was meant to be the day the interview would leak.

“Fine,” she muttered, and fired up her second Twitter account which she made just for this occasion.

There was her full name, her bio (former assistant at Stark Industries, married to Green Rage Monster and a man), and an actual photo Jane had taken years ago, but she was virtually the same now, except she stopped wearing beanies as often.

The photo, compared to now, made her seem like a happy-go-lucky youngster.

 _Fam_ , she typed.  _Had to crash the party._

She jumped onto her laptop and then shared a link to the audio files on a separate hosting website.

She laid back in bed and smoked in silence, watching the TV on mute.

An hour later, Reddit had picked it up.

And then Buzzfeed released an article:

_EXCLUSIVE leaked audio of ex Stark employee Darcy Banner spilling state secrets._

“Now you care,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

She should have just gone straight to TMZ.

Her Twitter mentions began to flood with emojis, ranging from shocked to angry, to the teary cat one she was particularly fond of.

Buzzfeed didn’t share a direct link, but it would take two seconds to Google it.

The audio was okay, considering the amount of time Darcy took to enhance it and make the necessary cuts at the start and end, when she’d set up every microphone and when she’d retrieved them again hours later.

People were pissed.

For a variety of reasons, and people were latching on particular parts Darcy hadn’t considered much.

There was one particular quote people kept retweeting, some with memes and others with just the side-eye emojis.

_Tony Stark wanted to stop making weapons, and then made himself a weapon. Why didn’t he put that money into education, instead of making himself the only Iron Man suit at the time?_

Darcy remembered this being part of the tangent on how hypocritical she thought Tony could be. She knew this stuff would mostly just get up his nose.

Twitter was the place where people assumed Tony was a misogynistic asshole for making her clean up his office every time he got passed out drunk, sometimes putting out literal fires when Dum-E was nowhere to be found.

The hotel phone rang on her nightstand.

Darcy thought it could be maybe three people in the world. And two of them were hiding.

“Tony.”

“I’m getting asked to comment on your little – ploy.”

He didn’t actually sound mean at all, just tired. Darcy felt a tug in her chest, something that she thought wouldn’t ever happen again when it came to her old boss.

“How far away is SHIELD?”

He dodged her question. “I’m the only guy who can do what I do.”

Darcy scoffed, but good-naturedly. “I can name about five people off the top of my head who can definitely do exactly what you do, and Rhodey  _has_ , actually!”

“Okay, you got me there.”

“I thought you’d be screaming at me.”

“I listened to the whole thing, Darce.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected. She looked around her room for her jeans to pull on. Her head hammered, trying to pull itself out of her late-night binge drinking that trickled into the morning.

She mashed her cigarette in the dish on her nightstand.

“Well.”

“You’ve got ten minutes.”

He hung up.

She threw on the jeans, her leather jacket, and her Louboutins.

And then they came.  
  


* * *

 

  
The agents took no time pulling her out of her hotel room, two of them walking beside her while the others made a circle to block most of her access to anything on the way down to the basement parking lot where the dark, nondescript Range Rover sat waiting for her.

She didn’t need to be prodded to move in the right direction.

She was lucky they decided to take her alive.

She had possibly just committed treason. Or at least, light espionage with a generous helping of betrayal of government sources.

As long as they didn’t have Bruce or Bucky, she didn’t care.

They stuck her on a private jet.

They got her off the jet in Washington.

SHIELD headquarters loomed large and pissed off in front of her. She squinted into the distance.

“I won’t talk to anyone if Tony isn’t present.”

Nobody acknowledged what she said, but a few minutes later when she was on her way up in the elevator, when they reached the level for their own interview – Tony appeared as if he had been produced out of thin air.

“Kiddo,” he said, though there was no warmth in that pet name.

No matter what happened next, Darcy was sure he’d never look at her the same way ever again.

She wasn’t allowed to smoke, so a random lackey who looked barely old enough to buy liquor frowned and said, “We can offer you nicotine gum.”

Darcy made a face at that. That kind of gum was somehow worse than the taste of a cigarette.

“No, thank you. I’ll just have tea.”

Tony sat opposite her, and they were alone together at last in the dark interview room, the light almost comically bad, until Tony asked they actually use the power cells he provided them.

The same lackey ran off, looking embarrassed.

“You haven’t heard from your other half, I take it?”

Darcy blinked. It was funny that Tony even considered her half of a whole person in this state. She considered herself a hollow shell, and whatever she was before all this had been scraped away and what she was now just made her want to sit around feeling sorry for herself.

“No,” her voice was a rasp.

They were silent until the lackey came back with Darcy’s black tea, and a folder that he placed in front of Tony.

Darcy’s name was literally all over it.

“I have to talk about everything you said,” he muttered, leafing through the file until it got to the back, where a transcript of the entire collective audio files were.

“I guess just the things SHIELD didn’t want you to say,” he added. “But most things.”

Darcy nodded, feeling herself start to go numb.

She wondered what a jail cell would be like if SHIELD provided it. Maybe Tony would forgive her a little and she’d at least get a TV or some books. She never did finish Wuthering Heights.

“You mentioned right off the bat your husband’s status as an enhanced human,” he began, his finger running along the words. “I quote, ‘Bruce has an IQ of 160 and his alter ego the Hulk was the result of a horrific accident. He was trying to replicate the Super Soldier serum.’ Correct?”

“You insult me. Bruce’s IQ is 190,” Darcy countered.

She actually saw Tony smirk for a second, before pressing on, nodding.

They went on like this for a while. Tony went over every secret, every quip, and every little passionate outburst in the transcript.

He stopped when he got to her talking about Bucky. He visibly changed in less than a second when he read what he already knew was coming, the tale of how his parents were murdered over twenty years ago.

“You said, ‘Bruce was the reason I gave a shit about anything. Without him, I would have never been brave enough to help Sargent Barnes.’”

He let out a shaky breath. “Then you said, ‘He murdered Tony Stark’s parents and I kept that secret with me until it all came crashing down… Bucky is running from those who mean to kill him, including Tony Stark.’”

“Tony.”

He seemed to have frozen.

“Tony, they knew. That was what I said next. The government always knew who the Winter Soldier was.”

He was always classified as MIA because his body was never found, and someone along the way put two and two together. It was written down, in a place where Bucky had hidden it just for Darcy to give to Tony someday.

Tony only just barely nodded.

“They’re making me do this. They want to see you in front of a grand jury or something. They’d probably even have you taken out back and shot.”

“But you won’t let them?”

“Hell, no,” Tony whispered.

“Because you believe me?”

Even now, after all this, Darcy was surprised.

Tony nodded again. “A part of me is trying not to.”

“You don’t have to welcome me back into your loving arms or something like that,” Darcy muttered. “But I can prove that the US and the Soviets knew exactly who the Winter Soldier was, and what he was doing. Always, since before your parents were killed.”

Tony nodded.

“And I know they’ll probably drag me away after you leave, but I wanted you to know. It’s all true. All of it.”

She didn’t even realise she was crying until her vision went blurry and then she swiped at her eyes, sniffling.

“I can’t ever make it better. But Bucky deserves to come home. And so does Steve. Without being locked up.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since I updated this fic, so... hello. How are you? Darcy's not doing great. Hope you're doing better! In case the purpose of Darcy exposing herself along with every top secret she knows is lost on anyone, she did it so Bucky could catch a break.   
> The full Desperado playlist can be heard [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170838034/playlist/0YtoA0pIK4AOJmPIM4ppcm?si=piV6e7_fRFaL7v3vCpPUtw).   
> Thank you for reading! <3


	14. xiv.

Desperado by Rihanna

 

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

 

 

**xiv.**

 

_**THEN.** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cap knocked Bucky out – Darcy heard this after they got back with Bucky in tow, no longer welcome in Washington, but neither could they keep him in the city, so they all moved upstate.

It turned out Tony had a secret project on the side, which meant there was a whole facility for them to move into, expenses paid.

Everything they could possibly think of was included.

He got Bruce a heated yoga mat, even.

Darcy was convinced she’d played a part in Bucky’s overall deterioration, but he refused to listen to any of her excuses.

It turned out agents were almost constantly trying to get at him to turn him, to reawaken the Winter Soldier.

HYDRA was very bitter and vengeful when it came to any apparent slight caused.

Sometimes she ate, and sometimes she didn’t. She was getting better at not entertaining the former as a good idea in times of stress, but mostly it was just a constant battle she sometimes had no energy fighting.

Especially when Bucky looked at her with his haunted gaze and told her she shouldn’t be wasting her time with him, trying to help him, trying to be there for him – instead of spending that time with Bruce.

She and Bruce were so close they developed a kind of rhythm and language only they knew, and Darcy felt like she’d never been closer to anyone in her entire life.

She told him about every demon, every little struggle from her past, and in return he told her everything about his father, namely the fact that he murdered his mother and was spending the rest of his life in prison.

She began to understand that his fear of rage didn’t just start from a fear of losing control and becoming the Hulk – but that his father controlled his childhood much like her own, with a particularly sadistic streak that left Bruce afraid of becoming anything like him.

“I love you so much,” she just kept saying, kissing his face and his hands, holding him as he wept because of memories or nightmares or both.

When she was with him, she felt safe – and yet, food still dominated a lot of her thinking because she still struggled with normalising it each day.

They’d fight about it. Darcy was the first one to admit it was a problem, but it was harder to explain to anybody else why she couldn’t just _eat something_ some days.

Their sex never suffered because of it. If anything, Darcy thought it improved when they fought. It made her more than once consider picking a fight over something insignificant just to experience the make-up sex – but it never got so dire. Bruce always had an appetite and Darcy was always so mischievous and making him give in whenever he got the slightest urge to bend her over something.

It became a running joke amongst all of them living on the compound – where were Bruce and Darcy? Oh, God. Don’t ask. Knock first wherever you go.

Bucky was struggling not to punish himself on a daily basis because his flashbacks were so bad, but then Sam was also managing to wheedle himself into his life enough to get through to him occasionally with Steve and Darcy’s help.

On a bad morning when Bucky had a violent nightmare the night before, Darcy got the news.

 _The_ News.

She was sitting with Bucky on one side of a table with Sam and Steve on the other, when Natasha came racing in with Bruce in tow, her red eyebrows furrowed and Bruce looking pale.

“What is it?” Darcy asked, laughing nervously a little.

Natasha took a deep breath and placed her hand on her shoulder, and Darcy stared back at her, reading the alarm that permeated the room.

“I’m sorry, but your father has died.”

Darcy felt more than heard the words. It was strange, considering she hadn’t spoken to her parents in over a year – they just had Christmas at the compound and she never reached out to her family, seeming to be rid of them, no longer under the cover of their dark shroud – and yet she gulped at the air, turning to Bruce, blinking and frozen as he nodded.

Darcy didn’t know what to do. If she stayed still, she may never move again.

Everyone was watching to see what she’d do, she realised, and she felt her cheeks, which were wet.

Blood?

No, they were tears – and she wiped some away only for them to be back, in more abundance, and she crashed to the floor, having fainted.

When she came to, her head was resting in Bruce’s lap and they were all looking down on her, Tony having arrived at some point, and Clint as well.

“Give her some air,” Bruce said, his voice louder than normal.

He stroked her cheek as people moved back.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered, and Darcy felt a pang in her chest.

He’d never called her that before.

_Baby, baby, baby –_

“Oh, God,” she wailed, and her face screwed up as she sobbed. “Oh, Jesus. _No_.”

She cried because things were never mended. A part of her deep down always wanted to return to her parents, a different, more put together version of herself that could stand tall and unashamed. She’d never have that, now.

If her father was dead, it meant all disappoints had died with him. She could never change that chapter of her life, now.

A part of her wished he’d loved her unconditionally, because she was sure he never did.

“Why am I crying?”

She shook with her sobs, and Bruce just shook his head a little.

“Darcy, you’re _allowed_.”

Natasha found out because Darcy’s mom Olivia had been blocked from any of Darcy’s personal numbers, and JARVIS received some kind of alert when Olivia reached out to the SHIELD office. JARVIS then relayed all this information back to Natasha, probably unsure with how to approach Darcy with the news.

The AI was probably never programed to deal with this sort of situation. Most of the people who lived on the compound were orphaned, and had no family, save for a couple of them.

However, Darcy had chosen to shun her parents.

“You made your choices because it’s what you needed,” Bruce said, as they sat together alone at their breakfast nook in their new home, the day after she heard The News.

His complete lack of judgement was like a buffer for all her crippling guilt.

Bucky shared a cigarette with her just hours before she was due to return to Rochester for the funeral. Her mom had passed on the details, but she couldn’t gauge the kind of welcome she’d receive, so she decided letting Bruce come too was probably the best idea.

Bucky kept shaking his head, hearing what kind of man Laurence Lewis was like.

“ _I’m_ not gonna miss him,” he grunted.

Darcy smirked a little at that, despite her tears.

“He would have hated you.”

“Well, be glad your mom’s meeting Bruce and not me,” Bucky retorted, taking a long drag from his cigarette and then flicking ash of the balcony they sat on.  


* * *

 

  
Eyes were all on Darcy and Bruce (but mostly Darcy) when they arrived at the church for the funeral. Relatives Darcy hadn’t seen since she was a very small child looked over at her barely covering their astonishment.

A cousin from Boston named Claire sidled up to her, giving her a weird half-kiss and hug, leaving Darcy cringing inwardly and looking desperately at Bruce for help.

“Your man?” Claire said, indicating Bruce like he couldn’t hear them.

“Sure,” Darcy replied, dreading whatever was going to come next.

“Didn’t know you were into – uh, older guys, Darce,” Claire smirked, and then finally acknowledged Bruce. “No offense.”

“None taken?” Bruce returned, embarrassed.

Darcy took his hand and walked off inside the church, to find a seat.

“Darcy!”

It was her mom, who made her way down the pews to them, handkerchief in one hand and her disdain so obvious Darcy immediately regretted ever coming back.

“Mom,” she murmured, feeling her heart in her throat, and Bruce squeezed her hand tighter in his.

“How are you?” Darcy added, feeling her hands quickly grow sweaty.

“I had no idea you’d show up,” Olivia said, going straight for it.

“Me neither, I guess.”

She knew her father had a massive heart attack. If she’d still been in contact with her parents, she would have known this wasn’t his first. He’d had one just a couple months after he left Darcy’s nose bloody during that Thanksgiving last year.

“Who’s this?” Olivia asked, and Bruce didn’t let go of Darcy to shake anyone’s hand.

“Bruce Banner,” Darcy answered, “He’s my partner.”

Olivia looked a little surprised, only for a colder expression to spread across her face seconds later. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Yes, I think your father knew about all your work friends, Darcy. He never did approve.”

“Well, I didn’t like him beating the shit out of me and you standing idly by.”

She didn’t care that she’d just sworn in a church – she regretted not saying it sooner, when she was a kid and her father slapped her hard enough for her to fall over, or the time when he told her he wished she’d been born a boy.

Two blotches of colour formed on Olivia’s cheeks and her mouth became a hard line.

“Darcy, I did everything I could to make you both happy.”

Bruce let out a bark of a laugh, unable to help himself. “Unbelievable.”

Darcy wanted to kiss him just for that. She never felt so proud of him.

Her better half.

“We’ll go, Mom,” Darcy said, feeling the tears welling up anyway. “I just came to say I’m sorry for your loss.”

“He was your father, too. Stay for him.”

“ _No_ ,” Darcy hissed. “I never could stand doing what I was told. I guess all the abuse did nothing for my total disrespect of authority figures.”  


* * *

 

  
They left without another word, and the second they got back to their hired car, she leaned forward and kissed Bruce with such force he drew back, breathless.

“Baby.”

“You’re incredible. Do you know how much I love you?”

She was stroking him through his suit pants and he gave a kind of disbelieving laugh.

“I have some idea.”

They stayed in the city for three days, just the two of them and their bed, and Darcy kept looking over at him, because he kept looking over at her.  


* * *

 

  
It took Bruce another week to actually ask her.

“Marry me,” he said, and Darcy stopped mid-step, staring back at him.

They were walking around the compound as the sun set, and she tucked her hair behind her ears and grinned.

“Are you fucking serious?” She blurted, not able to contain herself.

He dropped to one knee, not before dragging a hand through his hair, his old habit.

“Darcy Lewis, will you marry me?”

And she’d probably hate the story, from the sheer corniness of it, but it was her life.

Darcy burst into happy tears, nodding.

“Yes. Please. I’m saying yes.”

His lips crashed into hers, and he groaned as she pressed against him, shameless and uncaring about who spied them making out in the field.

They got back to their home – barely able to keep it together beforehand, mind –

Darcy was on top of him on the floor just beyond their front door, Bruce’s pants pulled down past his thighs as she sank down on his cock with a shaky breath.

“I’ll never get sick of this,” Bruce panted, as Darcy moaned above him. “Never ever. _Fuck_.”

“Yes, _fuck_. Exactly,” Darcy murmured, rolling her hips and making him groan.

In seconds, he flipped them so she was pinned to the floor, and he kicked off his pants, shoving inside her once more with more force, seeming drunk on pleasure and his own happiness.

“I’m gonna _marry_ you,” he whispered, her hips cradling him, as he kissed her with eyes open, as if to not miss anything.

He didn’t seem to stop babbling, not that Darcy minded. Sometimes he became completely incoherent, which was always a funny site to see from the man with seven PhDs.

She just wanted to remember every second with him.

This was insane, that she could be this happy.  


* * *

 

  
They got married quickly, no less than two weeks later. Nobody seemed to question it – stranger things had happened.

For her mother’s sake, Darcy sent Olivia a letter about the nuptials, with no intent of following up with her.

To her mom’s credit, Olivia did send them a nice picture frame but didn’t say much else about it, and Darcy figured that was the best she was going to get.

They were officiated and Bruce didn’t even wear a tie – but Darcy was near delirious with her joy, and Bruce seemed the same way.

They were backpacking through India, but nowhere near Bruce used to be in hiding, so as not to ruin the moment by reminding them of difficult times.

Darcy ate nearly everything, and got food poisoning twice – but her intention was clear. She wanted to be a happy and healthy wife.

When they returned a month after their wedding, Darcy was throwing up again, and not because of some questionable goat curry.

They confirmed she was pregnant and Bruce carried her on his back around the compound to tell everybody.

“I have never seen him like this,” Tony said, and Darcy couldn’t stop smiling – her face hurt.

Jane sent gifts from Norway. Natasha updated Darcy’s fitness routine.

Bruce built a crib, which Darcy wasn’t aware of until it turned up in their second bedroom, and he waved at it casually, saying, “Oh, _that_?”

Gaining baby weight wasn’t as frightening as Darcy expected. She had morning sickness for the first six weeks and then got that _glow_ she didn’t stop hearing about.

“If it’s a boy, I’m naming him James,” Darcy told Bucky, and he held her for a good three minutes after that, telling her to shut up.  


* * *

 

  
They kept going on missions, and maybe Darcy had become complacent. Things were going so well she got used to it.

The Avengers were sent to Belgium, and Bucky was included for the first time.

It was apparent the second they got there that it was a trap – Bucky was grabbed at by several targets and dragged away.

Cap beat his way across to his friend – and Natasha brought up the rear with Hulk and Tony. Clint was shooting from above.

This all happened while Darcy went for a walk around the field, and once she got about two thirds of the way, she felt an almighty cramp low in her belly, and crouched in the dirt while the pain bore down on her.

It felt like such an ordinary day. And then, like always, Darcy’s life went to shit.

She felt around her skirt she wore (because it was getting to that sweltering stage of July) and brought back her sticky fingers covered in the brightest blood Darcy had ever seen.

She may have screamed while sobbing. She probably asked the empty field, why her, why do this to Bruce, too –

She can’t remember all of that.

She managed to get herself back inside to alert JARVIS, who promptly phoned an ambulance.

Darcy knew she wasn’t dying, but that the baby was.

Back in Belgium, Bruce didn’t hear about it until after they clawed their way back to the quinjet with Bucky’s unconscious body, the Hulk shrinking back down to his human counterpart.

Natasha was screaming at Tony not to get any closer.

Around this time Bucky’s responsibility for Tony’s parents’ deaths came to light. Some HYDRA asshole made sure he knew, with surveillance footage playing out around the building they barged into in the first place –

Tony could only be described as apoplectic and inconsolable.

Tony was the one who knocked Bucky out. He meant to keep going.

Darcy wished she was there for this. She was convinced later that she could have made an impact and stopped everything from getting so out of control.

Maybe her weakness was that she was too young, and therefore too headstrong and sure of herself at times.

There was no getting to Tony. Darcy would bet anything that even Pepper couldn’t have changed his mind.

He was going to kill Bucky, but Cap got between them.

Just as he dove for Bucky again, Natasha kicked his feet out from under him, and then JARVIS announced Darcy was in hospital.

“Wait – shut up!” Bruce roared at everyone, looking frantic.

(This was all relayed to Darcy later by Natasha.)

“What did you say about my wife?”

“Oh, God,” Tony said, realising what he nearly missed. “JARVIS, can we get an ETA?”

“Three hours, sir.”

“Fuck!” Bruce screamed, and everyone looked alarmed.

His skin began to ripple again, but he sat down, chest heaving, trying to will the transforming away.

Darcy was in a bed by then, being told there wasn’t anything they could do.

“How did this happen?” Darcy asked, her voice sounding thin.

She was crying then, her nose running. She sniffled.

The doctor said it was unexpected, but not uncommon to occur during the second trimester. Reality began to sink in, and Darcy shook her head rapidly.

“No, I haven’t purged in over a year. I’m healthy. Bruce is _healthy_ –”

 _But Bruce also is the Hulk_ , a conspiring little voice whispered at the back of her mind.

“I was getting tested all the time. This doesn’t make sense.”

It just happened.

Things like this _just happen_.

Darcy clenched her fists until she drew blood, and she wouldn’t move an inch, seeming to be stuck in a place that occurred just before her life being over.

She didn’t allow anyone to collect her.

When she got the chance, she ran off, back to the compound.

She wasn’t sure what she’d do, except that she had to fix this somehow, without triggering Bruce into some kind of Hulk outburst.

No such luck.

He beat her back, with a fraction of the team.

Cap and Bucky had escaped, but Darcy didn’t know that at the time. She was too focused on Bruce’s face when he saw her.

She wore her hospital smock over a pair of sweatpants.

“Darcy,” he croaked, seeing his worst nightmare come alive.

“Bruce,” she breathed, and went to him, trying to hold him to her. “I can’t –”

She couldn’t say it, she was suddenly tongue-tied.

“I was walking and then, she came too soon.”

“She?” Bruce repeated. “Oh, _God_.”

He made the kind of sound Darcy had never heard come from another person before – the kind of fresh anguish amplified by devastating grief, so unexpected and strong her eyes watered.

He fell to the floor of their apartment, and Darcy felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“It’s me. It’s not you. It has to be me,” her voice was like a squeak.

“How is not about me? How is not MY FAULT?”

Bruce’s voice was suddenly monstrous. He got up, his skin starting to ripple and change to green, and seconds later he managed to charge out into the open where the Hulk stood and roared, as Darcy cried.

Things had been perfect that morning.

She didn’t know how to convince him, and Bruce didn’t seem to be returning any time soon.

The Hulk bolted across the field, leaving everything behind.  


* * *

 

  
On the other side of the compound, Tony was falling apart. He’d got his suit off, but only to start throwing things around his work room.

As Darcy came by, drawn by the sounds of glass breaking, she flinched as he threw a globe across the room, and upended a table for good measure.

“Tony, what the fuck are you doing?” she yelled, horrified.

“Did you know?” Tony asked, and Darcy felt the cold wash of dread come over her.

“Know what?”

Tony shook his head at her.

“See, I figured since you were so close to Cap and Barnes now, you had to know.”

“What are you talking about, Tony?”

He had this mean look in his eyes. He grabbed a glass of scotch from his desk and drained it, before filling it three fingers full and turning back to her.

“You knew about Barnes killing my parents, right?”

Darcy faltered, her gaze averting his. “Tony, you’re drunk.”

“Yeah, but you knew, right?”

Darcy paused, placing her hands on her hips and suddenly so angry and sick of his outbursts that she knew she wasn’t going to take anymore.

She’d had a shitty day.

“I’m _fine_ , by the way. Just got back from the hospital. Had a miscarriage.”

He responded exactly how she thought he would – there was a brief look of sympathy before he remembered she’d betrayed him.

“You’re fired.”

“What? Are you fucking kidding me?” she rose her voice to a scream to match his own. “Just like that, we’re done? Because I didn’t tell you how your parents died?”

“Why else keep it from me?”

“Because I knew you’d act like an ass and not understand!”

Tony drained his glass, not even stopping to blink. “Yeah, you’re definitely fired.”

He tried walking past her, and she swiped at his empty glass, knocking it right out of his clasp so it smashed on the floor.

“Fuck you, Tony. You know Bucky had no choice.”

_“He killed my mom.”_

She stalked off, all fierceness gone.

She learned from JARVIS that Cap and Bucky had run off, for Bucky’s safety. Darcy knew that Steve would sooner die than let anything happen to his best friend.  


* * *

 

  
Darcy woke abruptly hours later, somehow managing to doze off.

Bruce didn’t mean to wake her, she was certain of that. He looked like he was in the middle of leaving her, his bag over his shoulder and his boots on.

His eyes looked red and puffy.

“Baby, please don’t go.”

“I was stupid to think I could have had some semblance of a normal life,” he muttered, looking her over.

She was still wearing the smock.

“Stay here. We can make another one.”

“It’s not as simple as that.”

His words sunk in, but Darcy failed to sit with them, instead shaking her head.

“Remember me. Remember how good we are together.”

Bruce grimaced a little at that. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leading you on.”

Darcy felt panic rising in her chest.

“No. Don’t do this. I love you.”

She got to her feet, blocking the doorway.

“Let me _go_ , Darce.”

“Please, I love you.”

Her tears were spilling over, and she tried to kiss him. He hardly returned it, keeping his hands away from her.

“I have to go.”

He pushed her aside, and Darcy let herself stumble and land on the carpet, sobbing.

She left the next day.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for this being such an angst-riddled mess. I feel like this was awful, both to write and to read. There are only two more chapters to go. 
> 
> I'm hoping you didn't hate this as much as me. Honestly, I'm not fishing. I'm glad I've got this over with. I have literally been working on his story for years and now that it's finally come to fruition, it's hard not to think I could have done this better. That's the lesson, folks... don't sit with an idea forever because the novelty starts to wear off and you look at it differently. I promise the next chapter will be better.
> 
> Thank you for making it this far. <3


	15. xv.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, I'm not the biggest fan of this chapter myself but I've tried writing this three times already and I think this was the best I could do.

Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin

 

 

\- from Darcy's iPod

 

 

 

 

**xv.**

 

 

_**NOW.** _

 

 

 

 

 

 

Darcy thought she figured everything out.

SHIELD was keeping her in holding indefinitely, and she was sure that wasn’t legal, but considered complaining a bad idea – because even if they released her, somehow deciding she didn’t need killing off – where was she supposed to go?

She was technically homeless.

So the cell was her home for a few weeks, and she thought she knew the routine of it well enough, until they let some journalist in, which made zero sense.

Not too long ago they were carting her away for her leaking the audio files, and then a woman from some magazine wanting to interview her for an article (which Darcy was sure would never see the light of day) came by and was sitting with her.

It was the same table Tony sat at the other time, and Darcy felt her chest squeeze at the thought of him, wondering where he was, and whether he was okay.

She cared. She knew she’d always care, even if they were never close again. She figured he felt the same, since he vowed to protect her.

Maybe that was why SHIELD weren’t shoving her into a wood chipper, they were trying to be careful.

Tony was one of their main assets, even if he annoyed the shit out of everyone.

The journalist asked questions Darcy thought no-one would actually care to know the answer to.

“Who do you think would play you in a movie about your life?”

“Kiefer Sutherland,” was Darcy’s instant answer, and the journalist, whose name was Kelly just stared at her, pen poised.

“Try and loosen up, Mrs. Banner,” Kelly said, and Darcy narrowed her eyes at her.

This bitch was the one who got to walk out of there when she felt like it.

“Fine. _Donald_ Sutherland,” Darcy amended.

She popped a stick of gum in her mouth and began to chew, watching Kelly just stare back at her, probably wondering about how serious she was, and probably contemplating murdering her editor for making her do this.

Darcy chewed loudly.

“Oh, right! You’re being serious,” Darcy added. “….James Cromwell.”

Kelly let her pen rest in her hand, no longer waiting to write. She even sighed.

“I’m sorry, I guess you’re sick of this.”

Darcy shrugged.

“To be fair, I’m extremely fucking bored, waiting for news from the outside, but these people don’t tell me shit. I don’t know why you’re here.”

Kelly looked confused. “Mr Stark. He contacted my editor –”

Of course. This prank reeked of Tony. He probably sent Kelly to Darcy just to break up the monotony a little, but meant to send the most vapid kind of journalist –

Maybe that was a little cruel. Kelly seemed nice enough.

Darcy cleared her throat, chewing a little quieter.

“I’ll tell you what. Maybe Jessica Chastain, if she wore a brown wig.”

Kelly wrote it down, seeming to be less put out.

Darcy missed her company once she was gone.

She looked up at the spot she was convinced a camera was hidden – a crack by the light fixture, and narrowed her eyes once again.

“Somebody tell me what’s _happening_ , for fuck’s sake.”  
  


* * *

 

  
The days blended. She actually lost track of the number of days, and maybe that was deliberate on their part. She was more compliant when she was hungry for human contact.

The teenaged lackey who brought her cups of black tea would always skitter her way, until his replacement came in –

Darcy was sure she was seeing things. She must have actually lost it.

“Holy shit. Thor?”

He stood there, in the open doorway, looking just as tall as the last time she saw him – and she remembered that was years ago.

At the same time, he was nearly unrecognisable, with shorter hair, seeming to have been cut crudely because there were chunks missing, and he wore an eyepatch.

“Thor?”

She said his name again, now uncertain.

“Darcy,” he returned, and she sighed in relief.

He was _real_ and he was Thor.

The door shut behind him, and she was up from her cot and striding toward him, and he brought her into a tight hug.

Out of habit, he lifted her off the floor, and she sighed again.

He put her down and they broke apart, and she touched his face.

“What happened to you?”

“My sister, Hela,” he said, and Darcy felt her eyes widen.

“You have a _sister_?”

“Yes,” he said, and he looked her over this time, frowning a little.

Darcy felt her cheeks redden.

“You are smaller than the last time I saw you,” he said quietly, still frowning. “And you’re also married, now.”

Darcy felt her heart in her throat at the sudden mention of her marriage.

“How did you know that? Have you seen Bruce?”

“I just came with Bruce from Sakaar.”

He said it like it explained everything, but Darcy put up her hands, helpless.

“Wait, what? Thor – ”

He looked around her cell, a small smile on his lips.

“This is a sad little place.”

“Thor, what are you even _doing_ here?”

“Tony sent me. I was in New York but you weren’t there.”

Darcy tried to process everything he was saying, but shook her head. “Did they let you _through_?”

“Of course,” Thor said, shrugging. “I have the security clearance.”

Darcy gaped at him.

He looked at the rumpled sheet on her cot.

“You’ve been here this whole time?”

“ _What_ whole time?”

 

* * *

 

  
Thor led her out, guards staring at them but waving them through as they walked. Darcy had to jog to catch up – and she cringed, remembering Jane was no longer seeing him, in whatever capacity it was before Darcy left the compound behind all those months ago after her miscarriage.

“Jane is – is Jane okay?”

“She is fine,” Thor said.

He explained Tony had been at the UN pleading Bucky’s case. Darcy had missed all this, probably because the compound was attacked by HYDRA and SHIELD thought she was safer in her ignorant solace in Washington.

From what Darcy could figure out once they found a nearby internet café, with Thor taking pictures with a fan outside, the attack on the compound was in retaliation.

It was Darcy’s fault. The audio files told too much, made HYDRA look sloppy.

The more she dug however, the more Darcy realised the attack was probably planned over months, and she couldn’t entirely blame herself.

Thor came running back in.

“We should leave.”

“Where’s Bruce?”

Darcy realised she hadn’t asked, didn’t dare to. She had no idea where Sakaar was or what it was like.

“He’s gone away for a while.”

She felt the flare of anger lick at her insides, suddenly so hurt.

“How come?”

Thor steered her out the door and down a side street.

“It’s… complicated.”

She could have started screaming, _how dare he, I’m his wife._

_After everything we’ve been through –_

But she didn’t.

“I haven’t seen him in years, Thor. I didn’t even know if he was alive until you showed up.”

Thor closed his eyes, looking defeated.

“Alright,” he said, and then he launched into the full story.

Darcy appreciated his use of expression, that he told her all he could, but there was a lot that seemed to get lost in translation, because he was mentioning names and people Darcy couldn’t place and she tilted her head to the side several times, wondering if she’d asked for too much, but she listened all the same.

Thor was sold as a gladiator on Sakaar and came across the Hulk in the ring. He battled and won (Thor, not the Hulk, which Darcy didn’t believe for a second) and eventually they managed to escape and Bruce managed to emerge from behind his alter ego.

“He was frightened, Darcy. He didn’t know how long he’d been gone from Earth. He never meant to leave the planet.”

“He was abducted?” Darcy asked, and her heart sank when Thor nodded, looking grave.

“He was a prisoner like me, but we managed to hijack a ship – a great one, at that – But he took it from me. Said he needed time.”

 _He’s had time_ , she wanted to scream.

She swallowed. “So he ran away again.”

Thor put a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“Darcy, he will return. I’m just not sure when.”

Darcy was crying before she could stop herself, and swiped at her tears, frustrated.

“We need to – we need to go.”

Thor nodded, watching her start to recover from the blow, understanding her need to move on from their conversation, from _Bruce_ before she broke down again.

Thor only mentioned Bruce once more, a full three hours later when they sat in a tiny hotel not much better than Darcy’s cell, her phone charging.

“I wish I could have been there, at your wedding.”

Darcy looked up at him, seeing his warm eyes and smiling a little, despite herself.

“We went to an office. No-one came to our wedding.”

Thor just nodded, seeming to understand her sentiment.

“I missed you,” she murmured, and he smiled, broader than hers.

“I missed you, too.”  
  


* * *

 

  
Darcy watched the news for hours. Steve turned up with Nat and Bucky in tow, the three of them looking worse for wear – and Steve was bearded again, like years ago when he ran off with Bucky the first time.

Tony held a press conference, and people still debated on Twitter whether he was as bad as Darcy made him out to be in those leaked audio files.

She was probably the most hated woman in America by then, and it was better for her to stay with Thor in Manhattan than be seen in public.

Reuniting with everyone was tough, and not just because they had to do it all in secret.

Darcy boarded a plane wearing a blonde wig and met Steve in the cabin, and he grinned at her.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he murmured, arms around her.

She whipped off her wig and let it fall to the floor. She felt the colour in her cheeks, wondering how he came to that conclusion.

“I did nothing. I just leaked classified information. I’m lucky I wasn’t charged for even recording that Patrick guy without him knowing,” she babbled, and felt the tears prick her eyes anyway.

She was so overwhelmed, but things were turning out okay.

Tony made sure no-one from SHIELD was going to charge her. He threatened quitting being Iron Man on national television an hour ago.

“The truth is, I am Iron Man,” he said, and Darcy watched him glare defiantly at the cameras that flashed. “And no-one else.”

A journalist rose their hand, and Tony motioned her to speak.

“Mr. Stark, a week ago federal agents had Darcy Banner under arrest for sharing state secrets, impending trial and now you’re defending her and her associates?”

“Yes, that’s true,” Tony said.

Darcy had watched all this on her phone, Thor beside her on her hotel bed.

“So, can I ask why?”

Tony broke out into a smile. “Pepper Potts. Uh, priorities have changed.”

Steve didn’t let Darcy get away with her modesty.

“Tony got a clue because you put things into perspective. I heard Pepper’s pregnant.”

Darcy gaped at him.

“That’s… amazing.”

She meant it. She wasn’t jealous, and honestly, she was surprised by her own maturity. A year ago she would have resented that kind of good fortune.

Steve smiled. “Yeah. I, uh. I should send them a card.”

“Why don’t you just go see them?”

“I think Tony needs more time. Despite everything,” Steve said, and Darcy just nodded.

Thor burst onto the plane.

“Captain! I thought I should give you a minute before I came up.”

The pair shook hands.

Darcy looked around the cramped cabin.

“Where are Nat and Bucky right now?”

“Jersey,” Steve said, and Darcy couldn’t help smiling.

“Bucky would be hating that.”

“He needs that paper,” Steve said, and Darcy nodded.

He was referring to the Soviet notebook she’d stashed back at the safe house weeks ago, before they left to find Cap.

“What even happened to you, man?” Thor asked, and Steve looked amused by Thor’s more casual English.

“I got swiped by some HYDRA guys. Where were you?”

They both explained how everything happened: Steve was knocked out by Tony some time ago when the Accords were being put in motion. He was meant to be arrested but then the rumour he was killed in New York took hold, and he thought it better that the world thought he was dead, especially once he woke up in a HYDRA lab in France, Bucky and Nat standing over him with bodies littering the floor.

All the while, Darcy was giving them time to get Steve back and distract, by helping Tony get a clue and move on. The tragedy of the Stark murders would never truly disappear, and they all knew it, but Tony was closer to being civil with every enhanced person he used to call his friend.

Thor talked about Sakaar and Darcy turned away, wondering if she could leave before he spoke about Bruce, but she hesitated too long.

“Bruce was there.”

“Bruce Banner?” Steve asked, eyes wide. “How?”

He looked at Darcy, who’d sat down, her eyes glassy once more.

“Did you know?”

“I found this out a few days ago. I haven’t heard from him. He’s still in hiding.”

Steve frowned. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

“None of it does,” Darcy retorted, but her speech had no sting. “Thor said he was the Hulk for two years and had no idea how long he’d been gone. Bruce was grief-stricken.”

Steve nodded. “Because you –”

“Because of the baby, yeah,” Darcy smiled briefly, false. “Because of me.”

“He thought it was his fault,” Thor added, and Darcy stared at him. “He said it was his genes. The Hulk made him faulty as a human.”

“That’s not true,” Darcy murmured. She looked at her hands, and then over at the wig she’d dropped on the floor. “He blames himself for something neither of us could have predicted.”

“So we should find him, then.”

She shook her head at Thor, a warning. “No.”  
  


* * *

 

  
Bucky lifted her from the floor when they saw each other again, and Darcy’s eyes couldn’t stay dry if she tried.

“Fuckin’ Jersey,” he hissed, and she laughed.

“You’re safe,” she whispered. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

He kissed her brow, gripping her tighter.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did.”

The notebook with scribbles dating back decades showed a US operative deduce and then confirm that the Winter Soldier was Bucky Barnes. The operative only made the connection once, but it was evidence that the government was aware of the danger but chose to keep Steve and everyone else in the dark.

“They saw me without my mask,” Bucky said. “Just once. But it was enough. They looked through the missing person’s files and they made the connection.”

Darcy handed the priceless artefact to Tony, who stared down at it.

“I told you I could prove it.”

“I didn’t want to believe you.”

They were standing on Tony’s balcony, a scotch decanter between them as they drank, and Tony kept looking away over the city.

“Congratulations, Tony,” Darcy added, and he turned back to her, nodding. “You and Pepper must be over the moon.”

“I’m terrified,” Tony admitted, a small smile on his face.

“I know that feeling,” Darcy said, and she sighed. “Bruce and I –”

She stopped, wondering how she was meant to talk about all this without her voice breaking.

“Anyway,” she said. “That’s all over, now.”

Tony shook his head. “I can’t believe he’d do that, just leave you like that.”

“He didn’t leave _me_. He left his whole life. I think he wanted to die. I think that’s why the Other Guy took over for so long.”

There had been one Hulk sighting, but that turned out to be a rumour. He was still out there, and Darcy wondered if he’d ever come back.

With each passing day, it felt less likely than ever.  
  
“UN tomorrow. Barnes’ status is pending,” Tony said, changing the subject. “You’ll have him back in 24 hours.”

“Yes,” Darcy murmured, thankful he wasn’t dwelling on the past anymore.

They watched the sun begin to set, a helicopter flying overhead, with the sounds of the city below.

Darcy cleared her throat:

“So what now?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go!


	16. xvi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super nervous but... let's go. Let's do it!

Do What You Gotta Do by Nina Simone

 

Into Dust by Mazzy Star

 

Stay With Me by Lorraine Ellison 

 

\- from Bruce's Favorites playlist

 

**xvi.**

 

_**LATER.** _

 

 

 

“Darcy.”

She was staring out the window, wondering if her suspicion could possibly be true: that Bucky had come to see her in the hospital and could be seen out the window.

Darcy turned her head toward her psychologist and sighed.

“Yeah. Sorry,” she murmured.

“No problem.”

Everyone at the facility was very understanding. It was almost jarring. The last time she was in hospital, it was like every time someone tried to engage with her an invisible wall was up.

“What are you thinking about?”

Darcy swallowed, her throat thick. She was always on the verge of tears those days. Being in the facility brought everything to the front of her mind; she was no longer able to run.

In the months following Bucky’s return to society, Darcy had lived at the compound, growing smaller with each day. Her restricting had become once again a full-blown addiction and she could no longer hide it.

When she skipped meals when she first dated Bruce, she was able to get away with it until she fainted a couple times. She had more things to preoccupy her and she didn’t need that constant sense of control.

Now, she couldn’t even eat for the sake of her friends. She was only in the hospital because she collapsed at Clint’s house when she was staying with him and Laura.

One of his kids came across her, lying on the ground and went running back inside, screaming at the top of their lungs.

Darcy had to live with that shame now. A child did not deserve to see something so disturbing.

But her head was all over the place.

She shrugged at the woman opposite her, wondering if she was just seeing things outside she wanted to see.

She looked back through the window and the figure was gone.

When she left to go to the TV room, Bucky stood at the nurse’s station, signing something.

He got out a cigarette and it dangled from between him lips.

The nurse staring at him frowned.

“Sir, there’s no smoking in here.”

“I’m not plannin’ on stayin’,” Bucky retorted, and Darcy couldn’t help smiling.

She walked up toward him and he spotted her, pulling her into a tight hug.

“How’s civilisation?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Sucks. The Dodgers are still with LA.”

She snorted, and the nurse gave her a look.

“I _know_ , Cathy. He’ll smoke outside,” Darcy said, narrowing one eye jokingly.

“You want your cigarette now, Darcy?”

“She can have one of mine,” Bucky offered, but the nurse shook her head behind the barrier.

“That’s against protocol.”

Cathy retrieved a plastic baggie with Darcy’s cigarettes inside and pulled out two, putting them in the chute for Darcy to grab.

Darcy led them out to the smoking porch, slamming the door shut and sitting down on her favorite chair.

“How long did it take them to work out who you are?” Bucky asked, lighting up and sitting beside her, arm draped over the back of her chair.

He was trying to look her in the eye and Darcy was failing to stop the fear from rising.

Had she already gained a lot of weight back?

But why would she care what Bucky thought of her self-control?

“About an hour. Word travels fast.”

Bucky barked a laugh, exhaling and smiling. “You get asked about Tony?”

Darcy rolled her eyes. The amount of memes that stemmed from the audio files leaking was enough to make her want to never resurface, and never use her real name again.

She was under Darcy Lewinski in the hospital.

One of the worst memes she saw was the one with spliced Kanye lyrics.

(“I feel like me and Darcy might still have sex. Why? ‘Cause I made that bitch famous.”)

It was unoriginal and stupid but the Internet kept mentioning her whenever Tony went to an event, even though everybody involved had virtually moved on.

Bucky lit her cigarette, cupping it against the wind.

She drew her head back, inhaling.

“Once. And then they knew not to ask again.”

“What did you do, sweetheart?”

Darcy hadn’t really done anything. Just muttered something about people going to fuck themselves. And then no-one approached her since.

It was lonely in the hospital but it was better that way. She didn’t see herself having any lasting friendships with these people.

But that was all _her_ , not them. She had nothing against civilians. She was still technically one herself.

Darcy tapped her cigarette in the ashtray in front of them, sighing. Her one-shoulder shrug was a satisfactory answer to Bucky because he did not press her.

“I’ve been thinking,” he murmured, and Darcy looked back at him, watching him watch people inside through the small window in the door.

“What about?” she answered, and took a deep inhale again, her eyes watering.

His eyes swivelled to hers. “Come live with me.”

“What?”

Her voice sounded flat, but she was surprised.

“I’ve done the research. We can do an outpatient program.”

“We?”

“I bought a house.”

Darcy stared at him. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. It’s in a tiny town upstate. I can drive you to all your appointments.”

Darcy got up from her spot and began pacing, wondering what to make of all of it.

“Sam told me that you can’t stay here forever.”

“I know that,” Darcy retorted. She flicked ash on the ground.

She looked him over, how calm he seemed to be.

“Steve’s here, isn’t he?”

Bucky’s eyes looked away. “Yeah. He’s in the parking lot.”

Darcy swallowed. “So this was decided for me. Like being _here_ was decided for me.”

“You volunteered to come here,” Bucky replied. “You can say no.”

“But you don’t want me to.”

“No,” he admitted. “Let me look after you.”

Darcy felt her eyes prickle. “It’s not your job to.”

“No, it ain’t. It’s a privilege. And you helped me.”

He got up and hugged her, and Darcy sighed, conceding that being in hospital had not motivated her much. Perhaps a safe place with Bucky was a better idea.

She was otherwise homeless.

 

* * *

 

She packed and left the same afternoon, Steve dropping them off at Bucky’s new place.

He neglected to mention that it was a massive Colonial with too much space for two people.

Darcy chose a room and put her few possessions inside.

Each day was hard. She knew about Bucky’s superior hearing and never dared to purge inside where he could hear her and catch her in the act.

She did hide food.

She was not proud of that. She hid meals she did not eat with Bucky and it put her temporarily at ease.

She made the mistake of not throwing a sandwich out straight away. She put on a pair of rollerblades and went into the main street to get some alcohol.

The clerk named Kevin looked at her Darcy Lewinski ID twice before deciding to sell her the bottle of Jack Daniels.

If he knew her real identity, he did not tell her. His eyes flitted to her chest and Darcy left, huffing her contempt.

She got drunk and forgot about the sandwich.

Three days later, Bucky confronted her with the mouldy bundle wrapped in a plastic bag.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Years.”

“How long have you done it with me here?”

They were in her room, Bucky standing in front of her where she sat on her bed. She was tired and could not bother fighting the truth anymore.

She owed him enough not to lie to his face.

“Three weeks.”

He let out a breath, appalled. Darcy saw his frown intensify, and she felt herself trying to push away the feeling of shame, but it trickled in anyway.

She craved a separation from her reality. She wanted to have another nap and sleep away the rest of the day.

“You don’t have to change everything but you can’t – you can’t even bother to respect me enough to tell me what’s going on?”

She did not look at Bucky. Her eyes began to blur with tears.

“Talk to me, Darcy.”

His voice broke as he breathed her name, and her eyes snapped up to meet his and she saw he was close to tears.

“Please, Darcy _. Honey.”_

He could have said anything. _Light of my life, the best woman in the world, goddess of the universe…_

She blinked. “There’s nothing going on, Bucky.”

She knew exactly what the problem was. This was a person attempting to save her. This was someone close to her bothered by the lack of drive, her lack of everything. She wanted to be left in peace, left in rot – whatever.

Maybe she could join her little dead baby girl and never have to worry about swallowing something ever again.

She cried silently when Bucky left her room.

Something fractured between them and she spent weeks alone, drifting from kitchen to room to bathroom and then back to bed again.

She ate. She starved. She drank. She smoked.

Her appointments turned into a joke. Bucky still drove her to all of them, waited around for her and then drove her home, but her weight stayed the same.

“Do you have suicidal thoughts?” he asked her once when they drove home.

He said it seemingly without warning but Darcy did not flinch.

She did not even need to pause to think.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to kill yourself?”

“I want to.”

Bucky pulled over, glaring at her. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

She rolled her eyes, feeling like a bratty teenager. “Steve’s right. You’re such a jerk.”

Bucky gave a cruel laugh. “I am. I’m your worst enemy now but I’ll love ya to death. Which doesn’t seem that far away at this rate.”

“Good,” she snapped, glaring back at him for the first time. “I’m done with this shit.”

They were silent for a few moments, cars passing them.

Darcy looked out the window, missing the city. At least there, she was better able to blend into the scenery. Here she stuck out.

“I won’t do it.”

It sounded like a promise. But they both knew her condition would most likely kill her. It was a slower kind of suicide.

She felt his hand on hers, making her tense up. He rarely touched her since the sandwich incident.

“Are you in love with me?” she asked.

She supposed that was the best way to make things worse. If he had any feelings for her, she was going to ruin them by behaving so selfishly.

Bucky swallowed. “I don’t even know how to answer that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

He withdrew his hand, placing it back on the steering wheel.

He began to join the road again, eyes forward.

“I don’t know what you’d do with that information if I _was_ in love with you, Lew. You’re _very_ married.”

Darcy felt her cheeks burn.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“It means yes and no and maybe it doesn’t mean shit either way.”

“Then why are you making me live in your house?” Darcy snapped. “If you don’t want me? If you don’t want to be with me?”

“I care about you,” he said.

He looked at her for brief moment before his eyes looked back at the road.

“Me caring about you should be enough.”

 

* * *

 

_Enough._

She knew what he meant. Enough for her to let herself feel. Enough to practice some kind of self-care.

She also knew what he meant by very married. She hadn’t spoken about sex in months. She avoided any kind of talk of missing husbands.

Bruce became the ‘B’ word.

For the next few days, Darcy didn’t hide food but she still skipped breakfast and spat out some things.

She didn’t finish every meal. She left it all to see when Bucky sat with her during dinner.

She decided she wouldn’t kill herself in his house. That seemed unfair.

But she couldn’t mellow out.

She listened to her iPod, sometimes screaming along to it with her headphones in, sure that Bucky was disturbed by it, but she was only doing it for distraction.

One night,  when she had finished dinner and had a glass of wine, feeling down about the fact that she had a full stomach for once, she put on her music in the living room and began swaying alone.

She missed Bruce. He liked red wine and music. He liked her messy nature.

He liked that she was almost as fucked up as he was.

When Bucky stepped into the room to investigate the sounds, she turned slightly to regard him.

“Lew. I got news.”

“Bad or good?”

“Both, I guess. Depends,” he murmured.

The music kept going, and Darcy sipped from her glass, letting the flavors roll over her tongue before she swallowed. Her psychologist was always talking about techniques or distractions that brought her back to the present, and letting herself taste things seemed to settle her.

“Jesus, what are you listening to?”

“Nina Simone. It’s from Bruce’s playlist.”

She saw the look on Bucky’s face – perhaps a flash of alarm at the sudden mention of her estranged husband, perhaps the reminder upset him.

“Pepper and Tony want to make you godparents.”

Nina Simone kept going, singing about a love that run away from her. Darcy knew she was being a drama queen, listening to this kind of ballad.

“Godparents?” she asked.

“You and Bruce.”

Darcy bit her lip. “Did he surface?”

Bucky cleared his throat, and took a few steps closer, taking the wine glass from her and draining it in one gulp.

“Yeah, doll. He showed up.”

It was like her stomach dropped, and she blinked several times, the words not quite registering the first time.

“Where?”

“Canada.”

Nina faded away, and Darcy looked around, wondering what to do. What to do next to contain herself. She just ate. She could throw up if she needed to –

No. Bucky would stop her.

“Lew. The next part is hard to hear.”

“Harder to hear than the fact that he’s back?” Darcy retorted, and she looked Bucky in the eye, knowing she was already crying.

“He was livin’ on the streets.”

She shuddered, feeling nauseous.

The thought of him running around all alone with people out there looking for him was enough to make her worry, but knowing he had nowhere to sleep at night, nowhere safe, made her ill.

“Is he malnourished?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed, and she felt him grab her, and she nearly fell over.

She wasn’t fainting, but she wasn’t quite conscious, either. It was a strange in-between she could not explain.

“Lew. Lew,” Bucky kept saying, touching her all over, and she shook her head.

“Is he as malnourished as me?”

It was a dumb joke. A sick joke. She knew it was in bad taste and completely unfunny but she made the joke anyway, and she smirked just the same.

“Probably not,” Bucky conceded. “You wanna lie on the floor?”

“I want to get fucked up and scream on the roof. I wanna skate until I find a cliff to jump off of.”

Bucky knew she wasn’t totally serious.

“You wanna throw up, sweetheart?”

Darcy began to sob, and screwed up her face, choosing to cover herself with her hands as she lay on the floorboards beneath him.

“Yeah. But you won’t let me.”

“We’ll ride it out together.”

She cried harder, curling up and shielding herself.

Bucky wrapped his arms around her as best he could.

Over ten or so minutes, Darcy cried as he held her, and eventually resurfaced with red eyes and a stuffed nose.

“What do you want to do?”

Darcy knew he was asking about Bruce. She shrugged.

She didn’t even know what she wanted. She hadn’t thought past the idea that he wasn’t dead just yet.

“Tony called Steve. He got caught talking to himself too loud in a park.”

“The Hulk was getting to him. Probably trying to goad him,” Darcy murmured, thinking of Bruce trying to argue with the Other Guy, trying to bargain with him. “They probably thought he was suffering from psychosis.”

“He’s with Steve now. He’s okay.”

“No, he’s _not_ ,” she said, a bitter smile growing on her face.

Bucky frowned. “You want to leave him?”

“I should, right?” Darcy said, and she sat up, running a hand through her hair, which was all tangled. “I should serve him papers and take everything from him.”

Bucky sat up too, taking out his pack of cigarettes and shelling two out.

“Doesn’t seem like your style, sweetheart.”

“I could do it,” Darcy said. “I could lawyer up and get more than half for everything he’s put me through.”

“But you know it ain’t that easy,” Bucky finished, lighting both cigarettes and handing her one, shaking his head a little. “Not that simple.”

She felt pity for Bruce because he had been on Sakaar, but he still ran away in the first place, and stayed away once he got back.

He used to send her postcards with one word on them – _home_. She was home to him, but he hadn’t returned, so what did she mean to him now?

“I want to see him.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Bucky said, exhaling toward the ceiling.

Darcy handed him back the cigarette he gave her.

“I’m seeing him, Buck.”

She got up and went to her room to call Steve.

 

* * *

 

Three more days passed, and the anticipation was getting to her.

One night, Darcy ate too much and then threw up once she skated far enough down the road so that Bucky didn’t spy her doing it.

She knew he knew she did it, but was grateful that he didn’t stop her.

She kept listening to more of Bruce’s favorite songs, feeling too much and worrying he’d run off again somehow.

And then she would be alone again, hurting Bucky over and over.

It had to stop but she didn’t know how to fix it.

Steve called Bucky, and they learned Bruce was on his way, driving up from New York.

Darcy paced, palms sweaty. She felt anger and longing.

She ached to see him, to really see Bruce and know he still existed.

She heard a car pull up at the driveway and glanced toward it from her place on the porch, heart hammering.

Bucky burst out the front door, looking toward the car and then at Darcy.

“I should talk to him first.”

Darcy just nodded, frozen, guts churning.

Bucky walked toward the car, and she saw someone get out.

It _was_ Bruce. Older. Thinner. Grey in more places.

He was everything she expected him to be and yet he still surprised her.

Did he know she’d relapsed?

She wrapped her arms around chest, watching as Bucky shook Bruce’s hand, saying something to him.

Bucky promised her earlier to give them space once Bruce arrived.

He suddenly gripped Bruce’s arm, a warning look on his face.

Bruce looked toward the house and paused, lips parted.

His hands were together, and he stared right at her, and Darcy knew it was like looking at a nightmare version of someone.

Anorexia did that to families. Made people look like monsters.

She felt herself blush, and then watched him come closer, and Bucky climbed into his car and sped off, leaving Bruce standing in front of Darcy.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” Darcy returned, and her voice cracked.

A part of her hated that she knew she wasn’t whole without him, this person who hurt her so badly. She knew she deserved better, but she didn’t want someone else.

She wanted her genius, suicidal husband with all his daddy issues and rage that boiled inside him.

She let out a breath, not sure what to say.

She turned her heels and walked inside, the door ajar for him.

When he came in behind her, she decided to make something to drink. She got out two mugs, preparing the hot water.

She made tea, and handed him a mug wordlessly.

The sat at the kitchen table, and Bruce cleared his throat.

“I saw what you did, with Steve and Bucky. You were incredible.”

That went right to her heart, like all his compliments did before they were even dating. She remembered giving him potato salad one time and making him smile at her. It made her week.

Now she felt almost defensive.

“Thanks.”

Her voice was flat.

She looked at his face, which was clean shaven for once. There was a distinct line where his tan ended, where a beard must have been.

“Were you homeless?”

Her words were quiet but she knew he heard her.

He looked away for the first time, and she wondered what that meant. Was he afraid of what she thought of him?

“Yeah.”

He sounded sad.

“Why did that happen?”

“Things got out of control,” he murmured. He touched his mug for a second with a finger.

She waited, wondering how he’d phrase his first question.

“Did you go back to the hospital?”

“Yeah.”

She owed him nothing, but the truth was better than pretending. He was her husband still.

The next part she did not expect. He looked at his mug, and then Darcy saw his throat bob with emotion.

“Did you relapse because of me?”

“Yes.”

He began to cry, shaking with the sudden horrible truth she aimed right at his heart.

“Oh, fuck, Darce.”

She missed the sound of her name on his lips. She ached for that closeness. The sound of him breathing the same air as her.

Seeing him like this, sobbing uncontrollably, made something inside her break apart and she got up from her seat and went toward him.

She sucked in a breath, reaching for him and wrapping her arms around him, pressing his face into her shoulder, his hands finding her and gripping her back.

Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and he cried in her arms for a while, as their tea grew cold.

“Baby.”

She didn’t mean to say it – it slipped out. She meant to be cold and distant. To hold her cards to her chest, in case he was going to tell her he wanted out permanently.

She put her hands on either side of his face, pulling him up to look at her in the eye.

It didn’t take seven PhDs to figure out that he was sorry.

She wiped away a couple tears with her thumbs, and he closed his eyes.

“Don’t leave me again,” she murmured, and she made his eyes snap open.

“Darcy,” he began.

“No. Think about what you’re gonna say. And don’t you dare fuck it up for my sake.”

Bruce pulled away completely, and Darcy clenched her fists automatically.

“It’s broken. I was going to give you whatever you wanted. You deserve better.”

“Fuck that!” Darcy spat, and he stared at her. “I want you. I want all of you.”

“I know that,” he murmured, looking tired.

Darcy sat in her seat again, watching his every move.

“You still think we’re supposed to be together,” he sighed. “But I have to live with the fact that I killed our little girl before she even got a chance to –”

“Shut up,” Darcy snarled. “ _Don’t_. I got left behind, bleeding between my legs. You ran away because you thought it was better for my heart to be broken than to be with you.”

“Am I really so wrong?” Bruce yelled, and Darcy tensed despite her anger. “ _I tested my sperm_ , Darcy. It’s not ideal for babies.”

Darcy looked away, shaking her head. “I was the one with an irregular period because of the eating disorder –”

“I killed her, okay? I did it the second I got into gamma radiation, if we’re being honest. It’s me, Darcy. All me.”

The sharpness of his tone was jarring, like something from her worst nightmares. He reminded her of her dead father.

He must have sensed that, because Bruce pulled back, ruffling his hair and groaning a little.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Darcy’s eyes snapped up to his. “I don’t accept your apology.”

He sighed. “Maybe I should leave.”

He looked toward the hallway to the front door and Darcy shot him a look.

“No. You don’t get away that easy this time.”

“Then I’ll call a lawyer.”

“Fuck you,” Darcy snarled, and she half wanted to tip her tea into his lap, but instead left for her room, slamming the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

She turned on her music and put it all the way up, feeling the vibrations of the speakers in her sternum.

She wanted to fight him. Physically grab him and shake him or even slap him. She wouldn’t, though – she felt as if she touched him, she’d crumble.

After several songs, there was a knock on her door and she closed her eyes, waiting.

She could barely hear his voice over the music.

“Darcy, can I please talk to you?”

“Go away.”

“Please, Darcy. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

She shot up from her bed, taking the few steps to her door and then wrenched it open.

“ _Now_ you care if I’m okay?”

From the way he was looking at her, she knew Bruce was aware of his mistake.

“Darcy –”

“I want to just – ” Darcy threw up a hand. “ – _strangle_ you for trying to ruin everything. For trying to ruin everything we had.”

She knew she was breathing heavily, but Bruce was distracted by the song that was playing.

“Lorraine Ellison?” he said, his head tilted.

Darcy let her hand fall to her side, the skin slapping together. “Yeah.”

“That’s my playlist.”

“Yeah,” she said again, her heart beat beginning to quicken, her palms threatening to sweat.

She knew what it meant if she was listening to his music. It meant she was not that mad. Not mad enough to kick him out, to turn him away until Bucky came back, hours from now.

She let Bruce passed her, and he went to her speakers with her iPod and looked at the screen.

“You’ve got these three songs on repeat, just over and over – ”

“I do things over and over, you know that,” she whispered, meaning to sound harsher than it came out. She sounded nervous. “Like loving you when I don’t want to.”

He turned back to look at her, another song starting up. It was sadder, and it made Darcy’s eyes prickle once more.

He sat beside her on the bed, listening to the music. Nina Simone started up.

“That’s too close to home,” Bruce murmured.

“That’s kind of the point.”

 

_Man, I can understand how it might be_

_Kind of hard to love a girl like me_

_I don't blame you much for wanting to be free_

_I just wanted you to know_

_I loved you better than your own kin did_

_From the very start…_

 

“It was never you, you know,” Bruce said, breaking their silence.

Darcy looked at him. “Bullshit. I know what my illness does to people.”

“It was all me. Me and my own pain, Darcy,” he murmured.

He seemed to be putting the pieces together, that she was afraid that everything was really her fault, and that whatever bad things that could happen were because of her issues.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, and then she got up, changing the song back to Lorraine Ellison.

She was resisting the look he was giving her, one of shame and longing.

She would mirror him if she let it happen, so she kept standing in front of the iPod and speakers, listening to the song.

“We can’t listen to this, it’s too sad,” Bruce said, and Darcy heard him shift off the bed.

“Wait.”

She spun around, knowing he was closer to her, and she put up a hand.

“Wait,” she said again, and the lyrics came through.

She swallowed, really looking at Bruce, his frame that was all lean muscle, his grey hair.

The marks under his eyes that were always there.

She was so alone, and _he_ was so alone.

Her husband. Her keeper of pleasure and pain.

She reached for him, closing the gap between them.

She looked into his dark eyes, the ones she could see herself in.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

“Then I won’t touch you,” he whispered back.

“No, don’t –”

She clutched him by his shirt, their noses brushing.

The song swelled and Darcy couldn’t help herself.

 

_No no, I can't believe you're leaving me_

_Stay with me baby_

_Please, stay with me baby_

_Ooh, stay with me baby_

_  
_ She pressed her lips to his, trembling all over.

When he pushed back, tongue sweeping in her mouth, she whimpered, and they moved back toward her bed, crashing on top of the covers.

He tasted the same, just like she dreamed he would. He felt the same, still so strong and rough to the touch.

He rolled them so he was on top of her, Darcy gasping as she recognised the hard feel of his cock in his slacks against her crotch.

“I missed you. Fuck, I missed you,” she babbled, and she gasped again once his hands were under her shirt and kneading her tits.

“I love you,” he murmured, and kissed a trail down her neck, Darcy’s hips rolling. “I’m selfish asshole but I love you. I always will.”

“Please fuck me,” she breathed, and he pulled back to look at her in the eye.

Her hands went between them, trying to pull down her shorts a little.

“Please fuck me,” she said again, her tongue darting out to tease his mouth, and his hand was at her throat in an instant, nails dragging. “Please, Bruce.”

He kissed her again, and he fumbled with one hand to get his fly down and shimmy out of his pants just enough to unleash his cock.

Darcy looked down, so pleased to see that part of him again.

There were tears in her eyes but she chuckled.

“Come here,” she whispered, pushing down her shorts properly along with her underwear.

She hooked a leg around his hip easily and he lined them up.

She couldn’t take notice of anything else anymore, not with him filling her to the hilt, making her breath hitch.

It had been so long. She wasn’t used to the stretch anymore.

“Shit,” she breathed.

She looked toward the ceiling, lost in the feel of him, wanting to ground herself.

 He didn’t talk, didn’t even close his eyes as he began to move, pressing his forehead to hers and making her sob a little despite her joy.

“I love you,” she murmured, like a prayer. If she said it enough maybe she wouldn’t cry.

It didn’t last as long as she hoped, but she still felt so good, so whole with him buried deep inside her, fucking her in short, hard thrusts.

“I _love_ –”

Bruce cut her off, pressing his mouth to hers. He shuddered, chasing his release and collapsing against her.

Darcy moved out from under him, seeing his seed drool out from between her flushed folds.

She walked into the bathroom and peed, wiping it up.

The playlist was back to the saddest song again, and she opted to turn off the music altogether, looking at Bruce as he lay on the bed with his pants still halfway down his thighs, his cock soft and wet against his leg.

“Bruce?”

He looked at her. “I’m not sorry that happened, are you?”

“No,” she said, knowing it to be true.

She swallowed several times, not knowing what else to say.

 

* * *

 

There was more crying, inexplicable on Darcy’s part because she was no longer angry.

She was hurt but more upset that she had been without him for that long, that she convinced herself that she hated him for half a second.

The tears were inexplicable because she cried in the middle of opening a can of diced tomatoes when she was preparing dinner.

She sobbed, hunched over at the stove, and felt arms wrap around her, knowing Bruce was behind her.

“Bucky will be back soon,” she said.

“What are you gonna tell him?”

“He’ll already know by the state of me.”

“He said he’d happily kill me for making you cry, so I guess I’m DOA at this point.”

Darcy chuckled, a wet kind of laugh. She sniffled, stirring the stew some more.

She added chickpeas as Bruce watched.

She was finishing up as Bucky came in, assessing the room.

“He’ll sleep on the couch,” Darcy said, before he or Bruce could say a word.

Bucky just nodded and left the room.

Bruce stared after him. “I think you should talk to him.”

Darcy nodded.

She squeezed Bruce’s hand as she left the stew, walking outside to find Bucky smoking in the backyard, looking grumpy.

“You smell like him. I don’t want to be around you if you’re at it like rabbits again,” Bucky muttered, flicking ash on the ground. “I should head back to the city. See Steve.”

Darcy nodded. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to, _trust me_ , doll,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

 

* * *

 

Bucky left after dinner, promising to call tomorrow.

Darcy lay with Bruce beside her, not really falling asleep.

She didn’t even close her eyes.

“You asleep?” he murmured, and she whispered no.

He went down on her without another word, Darcy clutching the sheets beside her as she writhed.

She came twice before he came up for air, wiping his face with his hands and slipping his hands around her waist.

“You think we could have a kid?” Darcy asked. “Try again?”

“I don’t know.”

She thought about it for years, wishing she had more optimism than her brain would allow.

“It must hurt,” she murmured. “Knowing how hard it is for you.”

Bruce buried his head in her neck, kissing her. “Yeah.”

“Please don’t leave me,” she said.

It was more like a wail than a whisper, and she hated herself for not being more composed, for sounding like a child.

“I won’t.”

She felt relief. His words sounded real enough.

“I promise I won’t.”

“Please don’t leave me, Bruce,” she whispered, her voice softer that time.

He slid home, and was somehow more desperate than before, his thrusts erratic.

Darcy tasted tears, his and her own.

She clenched around him, gasping. He came shortly after, sobbing softly against her naked chest.

After cleaning up Bruce held her hand, tracing her fingers down his arm to scars she knew from his childhood.

“Darce,” he whispered, rubbing one scar over and over with her finger.

“Baby,” she replied, and she wanted to make his hurting stop.

“This one I did myself.”

The words hit her and she froze, staring at the scar under her finger in the lamplight.

“I never told you. I don’t know why.”

She knew he tried to kill himself. He tried it with a gun in his mouth years ago when he first became the Hulk.

“You did it before the accident.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want you to think –”

“You cut yourself,” she murmured, realizing she misinterpreted his intention. “You used to cut yourself.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why, but I wanted you to know.”

Darcy held him to her, hands in his hair.

 

* * *

 

A week later, they were standing in a church with Tony and Pepper with baby Morgan.

She was a beautiful baby. Darcy loved her big eyes, her red hair that had begun to grow.

She vowed to look after Morgan if anything happened to Tony and Pepper.

 

* * *

 

She went back to the hospital.

Bruce visited every day.

He saw a psychologist, and Darcy sat in the waiting room every time he went, hoping what he spoke about wasn’t too upsetting.

Marriage the second time around was so different compared to the first.

They fought more but loved harder.

She often convinced herself that he was going to leave her again, and he was always trying to prove her wrong, by showing up every time he said he would, and by telling her everything he’d kept from her before.

 

* * *

 

Leaving the hospital, they went back to the compound.

She wasn’t cured. She knew that. She didn’t keep that from Bruce, either.

She hugged and hugged Bucky, hoping more than ever to thank him, apologize to him.

Being back with the Avengers, she felt more determined than ever to try. 

 

* * *

 

Hello, my name is Darcy Banner, and I’m a recovering anorexic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over... and I am feeling so many things. Here's a hard pill to swallow - you can only get help when you want it. And I hope if you need it that you reach out and get it. <3
> 
> Please take a second to listen to the full playlist corresponding to this fic [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/12170838034/playlist/0YtoA0pIK4AOJmPIM4ppcm?si=kmzacbnCRsajCT07My0FJg). 
> 
> I always meant for this story to be different. I started it as Warrior in 2012 and then almost abandoned it forever until last year. I'm glad I got back to it and wrote a sequel. I hope Darcy and Bruce lived happily ever after.
> 
> Thank you thank you thank youuuu for reading this story. <3 <3 <3


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